A Broken Heart's Deception
by annie311
Summary: Hi everyone!This is my first POTO phic.It is based mostly on the 2004 movie,but might have some Leroux references.Obviously,I don't own any of the Leroux or ALW characters,but I did add some of my own.I really hope you enjoy this story!Feel free to review
1. A Journey into the Past Part I

Christine shot up in bed with a gasp. Her hands were cold and clammy. She felt pure, cold dread gripping her entire body with a vice-like hold in the pit of her stomach. As she struggled to get her bearings, she drew a shaky breath to steady herself. That's when she noticed the dried tracks of tears that had slipped down her cheeks while she slept. How long had she been trapped in that nightmare?

_Nightmare…_

It all came back in a sickening rush. Stifling a cry as the memories ripped through her, she slowly settled herself back in her bed. The ghost of a voice she knew so well flung itself around the corners of her mind, her soul…her heart.

_In sleep he sang to me. In dreams he came. That voice which calls to me, and speaks my name…_

A miserable sigh escaped her lips and she laid her head back down on the pillow, hoping she would go back to sleep, but knowing she couldn't.

* * *

Christine woke up three hours later from a light and troubled sleep. The first pale sun beams of dawn slipped through the lace curtains to shine across her bed. She groaned as she wiped the slumber from her eyes. She felt like there was gravel behind her eyelids. Christine rolled onto her side and lit her bedside gas light. Immediately the room was flooded with light and again Christine was shocked back into the present. She didn't think she'd ever get used to these surroundings. She was lying in a beautifully carved four poster bed, snuggled under warm, thick blankets. Across the room, there was a rich oriental rug on the gleaming hardwood floor and a large gilt mirrors along with classic French prints on the wall. She knew it was useless to try to get anymore sleep, so she swung her legs over the side of the bed, turned out the light and padded as quietly as she could to the door and eased it open.  
_"No sense waking up the household just because I have insomnia,"_ she thought. She crept down the hall past her suite of rooms as she silently accused herself, _"You don't have insomnia…You're in love…"_ Underneath her feet, a floorboard creaked, distracting her from that dangerous line of thought. Her head whipped around as she heard skirts rustling. She watched as her maidservant, Natalia, ran up the stairs.  
"Do you need anything, Miss Daae?"  
"No, no I'm fine. Just couldn't sleep," Christine said and she smiled softly._"I'll never get used to having all these servants fluttering around,"_ she thought, and sighed. It wasn't that she minded Natalia, she was a nice girl about Christine's own age. She just couldn't get used to being waiting on and having her every wish catered to. It made her feel uncomfortable. Raoul assured her she'd get used to it, but she doubted she ever would. She thought of the circumstances that had brought her here and shook her head a little, as if she couldn't believe it.  
"Would you like some breakfast then, miss?" Natalia asked.  
"Is Raoul awake yet?" Christine asked in return.  
"I don't believe so, Miss."  
"OK," Christine sighed, "I guess I'll just wait for him in the breakfast room then."  
"Alright. Don't hesitate to let me know if you need anything. Especially if you change your mind about breakfast," the girl said.  
"OK, thank you, Natalia."  
"My pleasure," she replied.  
Christine passed the girl as she went downstairs and Natalia went up. Then, as she was walking, she looked back and saw the maid beginning to make her bed.  
"You don't have to do that," she exclaimed as quietly as she could, but loud enough to get the girl's attention.  
"But it's my job," she replied with a look of mild confusion. Then her expression changed into one of soft understanding. She knew Christine hadn't been born into a life of privilege, as the Vicomte had.  
"Really, it's okay," Natalia continued softly. "I don't mind."  
"Well, alright," Christine said helplessly. She still felt uncomfortable with the whole situation, but knew it was pointless to argue. Finally, she crept back down the stairs.  
She walked into the breakfast room and sat down at the table.  
"I hope Raoul wakes up soon," she thought just as a clock somewhere in the house chimed five a.m.

The time passed slowly as Christine was left alone with her thoughts.

_Little Lotte thought of everything and nothing._

Time always seemed to pass more slowly now. It had only been a month since she had left her Angel screaming in agony as she rowed away with Raoul. She missed him terribly. He had become such an integral part of her everyday life. Her Angel and his brilliant music had been the first thing on her mind when she woke in the morning, and the man himself was the last thing she thought of before she drifted off to sleep to dream of him, and hear the voice ricochet through every nook and cranny of her mind.  
_"Even,"_ she silently admitted to herself,_ "after you had been reunited with Raoul."_  
Now what did_that_ say about her? She didn't know what to do. Leaving with Raoul had seemed the right thing to do a month ago. After all, the opera house had been in flames and her Angel had gone mad and tried to _kill_ Raoul. He had _gone crazy_. She couldn't stay with a crazy person! Christine shuddered when she thought of how afraid she'd been of her Angel during that time. But then she thought of the look on his face when she'd ripped the mask off of his face. And that kiss… she shook her head to clear it, but thoughts just kept assailing her…

_9 years earlier_

Christine giggled as she ran along the shoreline, the salty ocean tide rolling in to chase her feet as she danced around. He wild brown curls streaming behind her, she should, "Come on, Papa, I'll race you to the cove!"  
"Slow down Christine," he replied as he ran after her, "an old man like me can't keep up with such a young spirit."  
He stopped for a moment to take a couple of deep breaths. Then he started coughing again. This brought Christine running back to her father.  
"Are you okay, Papa?" she asked, her little brow furrowed in concern.  
"Of course I am, child. Just a little out of breath, that's all."  
"You've been coughing a lot lately. I think your cold has gotten worse."  
"Maybe a bit, but now that summer's here, it's bound to go away," he said, trying to assuage her concern.  
Christine seemed to accept this. She nodded, as if this made sense to her. "Alright. But, for now, let me help you carry our things to the cove."  
"Okay. Here, you can take the blanket then." He had the blanket to Christine and then she surprised him by wrapping her free arm around his waist to help support him as he walk. He didn't really need the help, but he knew it made Christine feel better to try and help him. Then finally, they reached "their spot." It was a small, forgotten cove where the shoreline jutted inward and met with cliff walls. There was a bit of perfect white sandy beach and off to the side there was a single wall of rock that was almost a completely closed off circle, but allowed just enough of the tide to flow in so that it rushed and bounced against the cliff face. This created a constant echoing roar that soothed the soul, and made their spot so special.  
These were the surroundings that Christine and her father found themselves in as she spread her favorite blanket onto the sand.  
"Your mother made this quilt for you while she was pregnant."  
Christine grinned. She loved this story!  
"She only picked the best fabrics for the squares. She knew you would love it. It was amazing how well she knew you even before you were born. Almost as soon as we knew you were on the way, she knew you were a girl, and that we would name you Christine, after her mother."  
Christine closed her eyes. She had heard this story so many times, she knew every word he was going to say.  
"Do I look anything like her?" Christine asked. She knew the answer, but she loved to hear it.  
"Of course you do, child!" Gustave replied. "Your mother was the prettiest girl in our village. She had the most beautiful dark curls and eyes. And skin so smooth, she looked like a porcelain doll. Just like you."  
Christine smiled softly. She loved talking about her mother. It made her feel at peace. But it inevitably made her think of her death and the sudden infection that had taken her from their happy little family. Christine didn't remember much of that time. But she was grateful for the memories that she still had of her early childhood. She remembered how happy her parents made each other. And she remembered the music. Oh what beautiful music went on inside that little cottage in the country! Her mother used to sing with her father as he played his violin. Then her mother got sick and passed away. And Father stopped playing his violin. Christine had started to worry that he'd never play again, but then they had moved to the house by the sea. There was something there that calmed him. And so he had started playing again. Christine had been so happy the first time she heard him playing again! The day it happened, she went out for a swim in the morning and when she was walking back to the house, she heard him playing. She ran up the stairs until she found him. She had stopped and just stared at him as he sat in an old chair, playing his violin. Then he looked down at her and held out his arm to her. Christine sat in his lap and sang along with his melancholy tune. They just held each other and cried together silently. That day must've healed him somehow because then he started smiling a lot more, and he hadn't stopped playing since.  
Lost in her thoughts, little Christine hadn't noticed that Papa had started playing the violin while they sat together in their cove. Oh how she loved her daddy! He was her best friend. If anything ever happened to him…and he had been coughing a lot lately… Concern welled up within her again.  
Sensing the train of Christine's thoughts, Gustave was just about to start playing one of her favorite songs, when they heard a small splash. Both of their heads shot around to look at the water. On the shoreline, they saw a young boy, about twelve years old. He had curly blonde hair, light blue eyes, and at that moment, a sad look on his face.  
"Oh no. I'm sorry I interrupted your playing, Monsieur! Please do not stop on my account," said the boy, "I was walking along the beach and was about to go back home when I heard you playing. My apologies, sir, but your music was just so beautiful! I just meant to get a little closer. I didn't mean to disturb you."  
"It's quite alright, son," Gustave said. He could tell the boy was flustered, but he was just relieved that he wasn't lost. "I'm Gustave Daae, and this is my daughter, Christine."  
"You're Gustave Daae? Well it's certainly an honor to meet you, Monsieur. You're quite famous, especially in this area. Your playing was beautiful just now. Now I'm really sorry I disturbed you!" Then, seeming to recall his manners, he brushed his hand off on his pants and extended it first to Christine, then to her father. "I'm Raoul de Chagny. It's a pleasure to meet both of you."  
Christine gaped a little. "Does your family live in the big white house on the hill a little ways from here?"  
"Yes, this is my parents' summer home."  
Slightly uncomfortable, he changed the subject. Raoul asked, "Sir, might I be so bold as to ask you to please continue playing?"  
"Yes, Daddy. Please keep playing!" Christine chimed in.  
Raoul turned to go, but Christine said, "No, Raoul, please stay with us. After Papa plays his violin for awhile, he promised me he'd have a picnic in the attic with me. Would you like to come along?"  
Raoul's face brightened immediately. "Well," he said, "if you wouldn't mind, then I'd love to!"  
"It's settled then," Gustave said.  
And he began to play and old Swedish folk song about Little Lotte.  
"Who's Little Lotte?" Raoul wanted to know.  
"You've never heard of her?" Christine asked, surprised. She had just assumed all young children knew of the brave heroine's dark adventures of the North.  
"No, I'm afraid I haven't," Raoul answered.  
"Well, we'll have to change that," Gustave said, winking at the two children.

Suddenly, a strong wind burst up, and swirled all around them, ricocheting off the cavern walls that almost completely surrounded them. A moment later, Christine's blue silk scarf was blown off her shoulders and flew into the sea! Before she could even cry out, Raoul was off like a shot, plunging into the frigid waters. He dove underneath their surface, and he was immediately swallowed up by the swirling dark blue-green waters and white foam. For one tense moment, Christine and her father watched tensely from the shore as they waited for Raoul to surface. One moment went by, then two. Just as Christine was about to run for help, they saw the young boy shoot out of the water, and swim quickly to the shore.

Gustave and Christine rushed to meet him. The boy was shivering, his teeth were chattering, but he didn't even seem to notice as he grinned. The scarf was proudly clutched in his right hand.

Christine launched herself at him, simultaneously wrapping herself and a warm blanket around him.

"Are you alright?" the little girl asked, frightened.

Raoul looked down into her deep brown eyes, and felt the first fluttering of an unknown emotion in his heart.

"Yes," he responded, barely above a whisper.  
Christine, Gustave, and Raoul quickly made their way back to the cozy cottage, and all of them crowded around the fireplace. There, Gustave entertained them by telling of Little Lotte's adventures. Over the course of the afternoon, Christine's father happened to mention that she was a talented singer.  
"Oh you must sing something Christine!" Raoul said excitedly.  
She nodded shyly and her father began to play. At first, she sang softly, but as the music started to consume her, she began to sing with all the passion the lyrics demanded.

_Think of me. Think of me fondly…"_

Raoul's mouth opened a little in amazement. He couldn't believe such a powerfully beautiful sound could come out of someone so small. His heart was lost to her.


	2. A Journey into the Past Part II

The rest of the summer passed similarly, with Raoul and Christine growing closer everyday. Gustave was happy that his daughter now seemed content. In the deepest part of his soul, he'd admitted to himself that he was slowly dying, but didn't know how to tell Christine…  
Then he thought he had found the only way he could comfort her. Gustave felt so guilty. He hadn't wanted to outlive Christine by any means, but he'd wanted to live into his old age. He was incredibly depressed by the thought that Christine would be an orphan, especially at such a young age. She was perceptive. If she didn't already realize in the back of her mind that his illness was getting worse, she would shortly.  
He didn't want to spring anything on her quickly. And so, he did the gentlest thing he could think of. All her life, Christine's father had told her about the Angel of Music. And so, he began to tell her and Raoul about him even more. He had a plan.  
All too soon though, the end of the summer crept up on them. One sunny day at the end of the summer, Raoul waited for Christine on the Daae's little porch. When she appeared, dressed to go swimming, she was surprised to see the sad look on Raoul's face.  
"Raoul, what's wrong?" Christine asked, alarmed.  
"My parents just told me we're leaving in a week," Raoul said sadly.  
"Oh no! Where are you going?"  
"Back home to Paris."  
"I see." Christine attempted bravely to keep her bottom lip from trembling, but she couldn't help it. "Oh Raoul," she wailed miserably as she flung herself into his arms, "This is terrible! I just don't know what to do anymore! Papa is getting sicker all the time, even though he tries to hide it from me, and now you're leaving! We might never get to see each other again and I…I…" Christine dissolved into tears.  
"Shh…" Raoul tried to console her, but that wasn't happening anytime soon. So he just held her close and let her sob into his chest. All the while he ran his fingers through her curls and softly caressed her back, trying to comfort her. It felt wonderful to be holding her this closely, but at the same time, his heart was breaking listening to her pain.  
After some time had passed, Christine simply lost the energy to cry. But she stayed in Raoul's arms for a few moments, just standing there, silent. She let him try to console her. Then, she pulled back slowly and looked up at Raoul. He brushed her tear-soaked curls off of her face, and wiped the remaining tears from her cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. All the while, he was staring deeply into her eyes trying to read her thoughts, her soul…her heart.  
"Christine," Raoul breathed out her name, "please don't worry about the fact that I'm leaving. I care for you so much. You're the closest friend I've ever had. We'll see each other again." Then, seeing the doubt written on her face, he added solemnly, "I promise."  
He leaned forward and brushed a small kiss on her forehead. When she pulled back, they were both blushing a little, but Christine hugged Raoul, quick and hard.  
"Thank you for your help," Christine said gratefully. Then, straightening, she said, "Let's go check on Father."  
Raoul grabbed Christine's small hand in his own and together they walked inside the little house.  
When the two of them got upstairs to Gustave's room, they could hear him coughing really loudly and painfully through the closed door. Christine had never heard her father sound so sick and then the realization hit her that he was sicker than she'd thought and that he was only allowing himself to be so loud because he thought she was still outside. Christine turned and looked up at Raoul, fear written blatantly across her little face. He squeezed her hand and was about to say something comforting when suddenly Gustave cleared his throat a final time and his room was deadly quiet. They both sucked in their breath, waiting silently, willing him to make a noise. When they finally heard him rustling around din his bed, they both exhaled the breath that they hadn't realized they'd been holding, relieved. Giving Gustave a few seconds to compose himself, they began talking as if they'd just come inside. Then they walked into his room. Gustave opened his eyes as if he'd just woken up from a nap and said, "Did you have fun swimming?"  
"No," Christine said thickly. She felt like she was about to break down, silently willed herself not to. Her eyes were spilling over with tears and her voice cracked.  
"Honey, what's wrong?" her father asked, concerned.  
"I just found out that Raoul is leaving soon," Christine said sadly. And that was definitely part of what was bothering her, but her mind was already swimming with her newfound knowledge of her father's condition. For now, she'd let him think she didn't know. But that would change soon.  
"Well that is bad news," Gustave said. He was sad for his daughter to hear that her friend was leaving, but he was also visibly relieved that she hadn't heard him coughing. He knew it was wrong to hide how sick he was from her. He just had to find the right time to tell her…  
"Are you going away for the weekend, Raoul?" Gustave asked the young man.  
"No sir, I'm leaving to go back home to Paris for the rest of the year. We won't be back until next summer," Raoul replied, the sadness written in his voice.  
"Oh no, then that is definitely bad news!" Gustave exclaimed. And he genuinely meant it. Not only had he truly grown fond of the young boy, but he also knew how dear Christine held her friendship with Raoul to be, and Gustave was grateful to Raoul for the happiness he brought to Christine. But now Raoul was leaving and he didn't know how much longer it would be before his health worsened…  
Not wanting to think about that anymore, Gustave shook his head to clear it, and asked, "How much longer will you be here, Raoul?"  
"A week," he replied.  
"Well, in that case," Christine's father said, "we shall have to make the most of the short time we have left—," his voice cracked, "—won't we?"  
Christine's eyes filled back up with tears, but she bravely nodded.  
"Very well then," Gustave said, his voice stronger, "I have a tale I've been saving up for just such an occasion, when we could all use a lift in spirits."  
"Is it about Little Lotte?" Raoul asked hopefully.  
"No. This one is about the Angel of Music."  
Christine's eyes instantly lit up.

There once was beautiful young girl in an old village in the North," Gustave began.  
"What did she look like?" Christine asked.  
"Well she had long dark curls and innocent, dark brown eyes. She was very beautiful. But her most stunning feature was her voice." Gustave looked off in the distance, seeing another face, another time.  
Raoul closed his eyes and imagined the young girl in the story was Christine.  
"She was the most talented singer that anyone in that area had heard in a long time. He father and mother loved her very much. They also recognized how talented their young daughter was, even though she was only eleven years old. So they took her around to the county fairs one summer. But they were advanced in years and all the traveling made them weak and they soon fell ill. It was a terrible virus and the two of them passed away within a couple of weeks, leaving the young girl an orphan."  
Christine's lower lip trembled and her eyes filled. She was immediately saddened again. Not only because it reminded her of the situation she was in, but also because she felt sorry for the young girl in the story. Strangely though, she was also comforted in a way. It was nice to know that someone else had gone through something similar to her. She wondered how the young girl in the story fared?  
Sensing her line of thinking, Christine's father hurried to get to the happier points of his story.  
"And even though the young girl was very saddened by the loss of her parents," Gustave rushed on, "she soon found happiness. Because as soon as her loving parents reached Heaven, they spoke to the Angel of Music about their beloved daughter and sent him to her. You see, the Angel of Music is very kind and loves to help good humans excel in their musical abilities, especially young children. And so, he began working with the young girl, helping her to improve her singing. She went on to become a wonderful, well known singer who had a very happy life."  
Christine sighed, content for the moment. "Have you ever been visited by the Angel of Music, father?"  
Gustave got a slightly sad smile on his face, and he shook his head. "No child, unfortunately I haven't. But your mother was."  
Christine's eyes widened.  
"Your mother was the young girl in the story," Gustave explained.  
Christine's mouth gaped a little, but then she grinned. In a part of her heart, she'd known he'd been talking about her mother.  
"And one day when I'm in heaven, child," he continued, "I will send the Angel of Music to you."  
Raoul's gaze shot to Christine. He wanted to see how she was handling the reference to her father's death. But Christine just sat there with a dreamy smile on her face, her eyes looking far off. Gustave, content that it seemed this story had calmed her down, settled back in his bed.  
"Now, if you children will excuse me, this old man is in need of a nap."  
Raoul and Christine left him.

* * *

The remaining week they had left flew by as if it were just a few moments. Raoul and Christine spent as much time as possible with each other, growing closer with each passing minute. But finally, the day arrived for Raoul to go back to Paris. When Raoul arrived at the little Daae house for the last time early that morning, Christine rushed off the porch to meet him. She hugged him fiercely and they stood there, holding each other for a moment. When the pulled apart, Raoul saw that there were already tears in Christine's eyes.  
"Don't cry, Little Lotte," Raoul tried to console her gently.  
"I just can't believe you're leaving!" Christine exclaimed.  
"I know, I'm so sorry I have to leave you," he replied sadly, but then he brightened, "we shall have to trade addresses. We must keep in touch!"  
"Absolutely!" Christine agreed, cheered by the fact that she'd still be able to keep in touch with her friend.  
"Well," Raoul said, "I should go say goodbye to your father."  
And so together they walked into the house.  
"Is today the day you're leaving, Raoul?" Gustave asked sadly.  
"Yes sir, it is."  
"Well, have a safe trip, behave, and make sure you stay in touch."  
"I will. Thank you sir," Raoul put his hand out for him to shake, just as he had that sunny summer day months before on the beach. This time though, Gustave wrapped his arms around the boy in a fatherly hug.  
"You take care, son." Gustave said.  
"I will! You too. I'll write soon."  
"See that you do."  
Just then they heard horses' hooves outside the house. Raoul looked outside and saw his parents sitting in an expensive looking carriage.  
"Well, I suppose I should be off then," Raoul said wistfully.  
Christine followed him outside toward the carriage. When they were almost there, Raoul whipped around quickly to face Christine. "I'll miss you with all my heart, Little Lotte," he said. Then, before he could lose his courage, he leaned in and kissed her softly on the lips.  
"We'll see each other again, I promise," Raoul vowed.  
Christine just nodded, squeezed him tightly for a moment with all his might, then turned around and ran back into the house before he could see her break down.  
Back inside the house, Gustave turned away from the window just as Christine came rushing into the house. He turned toward her, knelt down, and opened his arm to her. Christine rushed into her father's embrace and buried her face in his neck, her little body wracked with sobs. He pulled close and just held her. His heart was breaking as he listened to his little girl cry. He could feel the pain she was feeling, as if it were his own. He'd give anything if he could stop Christine from ever having to cry again. And he could feel himself growing weaker everyday…For what seemed like the thousandth time, feelings of anger, sadness and guilt tore through him. He was so mad that he would be able to see his daughter grow up. _But, this isn't really about me. It's about Christine," _Gustave thought, _"I have to make this as easy on her as I can."_  
All these thoughts ran through his mind as he held Christine close and tried to comfort her.  
"I'm positive you and Raoul will see each other again," he told Christine softly. "And you have each other's addresses so you can keep in touch."  
"I know. Thank you for trying to make me feel better. I love you, Father."  
"I love you too, child, so much. So very much."  
And so, they just sat like that for a little while, father and daughter, holding each other and silently saying goodbye.  
That night, Gustave's illness advanced from bad to worse. He was coughing all night long, and he was too weak to hide it from Christine anymore. She did her best to make him comfortable, all the while crying silently. Finally he fell into a fitful sleep as the fever raced through him. Christine stayed awake, feeling the need to watch over her father. Early the next morning, Gustave woke up to find Christine sound asleep sitting in a rocking chair with her chin resting on her chest. But she sprang to life as soon as she heard her father rustling around in his bed.  
"Are you alright, Father?" Christine asked, alarmed.  
"Yes, child, but I want you to come here so I can talk to you while I still can."  
Christine's lip trembled, her eyes filled, but she nodded bravely. Then she walked over and sat in her father's lap. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close.  
"Honey, we both know in our hearts that I won't be around much longer," Gustave said, the pain evident in his voice, "I want you to know that I love you with all my heart. You're the best gift God could've given me. I'm so proud you're my daughter. You're already such a wonderful person and I'm so sorry—"his voice cracked. He swallowed and continued on, "—I'm so sorry I won't get to see you grow up into the beautiful, strong woman I know you'll become. I'm so sorry, Christine, I feel like I've failed you!" He broke down then and started sobbing. Christine could feel his tears landing in her hair. Tears were streaming down her own face as she said, "Oh Father! You're not a failure! It's not your fault you're sick. I know you wouldn't be if you could help it. And you've been a wonderful father to me. You've always encouraged me and you gave me the wonderful gift of music."  
That reminded Gustave of one of the reasons he'd started this conversation.  
"Christine, I've made some plans for you in case I ever passed away," he said.  
"Plans?" she asked.  
"Yes, I've got some money hidden in that chest over there," he nodded in the direction of a small chest across the room, "It should be enough for a cab to take you to Paris."  
"What's in Paris?"  
"The Opera Populaire. I used to play there, years ago. About the time your mother got pregnant with you. Anyway, while I was there, I became friends with a woman named Antoinette Giry. She's very kind. Just go to the Opera Populaire and tell her you're my daughter and she'll look after you."  
"Alright, Father," Christine said sadly. But by now she was resigned to the fact that her father was dying.  
"Now, Christine, I want you to know that I love you very much. I'm not in any pain," he lied, "and I want you to remember that when I'm in heaven, child, I will send the Angel of Music to you. I know you'll be a wonderful singer and someday you'll sing to thousands of people on stage at the Opera Populaire. Then they'll love you as much as I do."  
"Oh, Father, thank you for always believing in me. I love you!" And with that they fell asleep, emotionally exhausted  
The next morning Christine woke up to her Father's coughing. He was coughing much harder than Christine had ever heard him, and she was afraid for him. He was sitting up on the other side of the bed, his back to her. Christine reached out to calm him, but her hand recoiled back when she touched him, shocked.  
"Father! You should be lying down. You're burning up with fever!"  
He turned and looked at her, sadness written across her face.  
"It's no use, honey. I'm dying."  
"NO! You can't be! Not yet!" Christine had come to accept her father's death, but she had thought she had weeks left with him, not hours! "Don't leave me. Please don't leave me!"  
"I'll never leave you, Christine. I'll watch over you from heaven and see you became the famous singer I know you'll be," slowly he laid back down, having lost the strength to sit up. "I'm so proud of you, Christine. I love…you." Then he closed his eyes for the last time.  
"NO!" Christine screamed. She wrapped her arms around her father and buried her father in his chest, still warm from his final heartbeats. She held onto him like that for a long time. Finally, exhausted from crying, she raised her head to look at him. Immediately she noticed the peaceful look on his face. She hadn't seen him look that peaceful in a long time, since before her mother died. Then, for the first time the thought occurred to her that maybe her parents would be reunited in heaven. This calmed her down quite a bit and actually made her happy. Sighing quietly, she strengthened her resolve to become the great singer her father had always told her she'd become. Wasting no time, she rose, changed clothes and walked the three miles to the nearest town. She wasn't afraid. The whole way there, there were nice little homes, full of kind people. And it was early autumn so the weather was still beautiful. Once she reached the little town, she sent a telegram to Madame Giry at the Opera Populaire in Paris. In it, she told her what had happened to her father and what she had told her. Having sent the telegram, she walked back to her little house by the sea.  
Later that night, Christine awoke to the sound of hoofbeats coming toward the house. She was just walking out onto the porch to see who it was, when a small carriage pulled up to the house and stopped. Then, a woman stepped out. She looked to be in her early forties with long blonde braid trailing to her waist, with a kind face.  
"Christine?" the woman asked her.  
"Yes, ma'am?"  
"I'm Madame Giry." 


	3. A Journey into the Past Part III

The next few days flew by in a blur as Madame Giry tied up all the loose ends before she took Christine to the Opera Populaire. Christine didn't remember much of the details until they arrived in Paris. She raised her head up from the carriage seat just as they pulled into the city. She was so worn out by grief that she slept through most of the trip. But now they were in Paris.  
For a moment she forgot about the circumstances that had brought her here, as her eyes took in the classic city. The carriage continued on through the city for a bit then stopped in front of a small, sad-looking building. Madame Giry got out of the carriage and went into the building. A short time later, she emerged, accompanied by a tall thin man with a grim expression on his face. Together they went around behind the carriage. Then Christine realized why they were here. Her eyes filled with tears as she watched the man wheel the casket away which held her father's body.  
Just then Madame Giry looked up at Christine through the carriage window. When their eyes met, Christine looked down at her lap and the tears rolled down her cheeks. A moment later, Madame Giry was getting back into the carriage.  
"Your father's funeral will be tomorrow afternoon," she said.  
Christine just nodded. She'd known this was coming.  
"For now, let's just try to get you settled in at the opera house."  
By then, it was pitch black out and pouring rain. It matched Christine's mood perfectly. They rode together a short distance to the opera house in silence. Then, they rode around the building, past the grand front entrance to a smaller door in the back that Christine thought must be used by staff and cast members.  
"Come with me, child," Madame Giry gently directed Christine. Then she took her smaller hand in her own, and carried Christine single suitcase in the other. Together they walked up the stairs and into a cramped, dark hallway.  
"It's this way to the dormitories, where you'll be staying," Madame Giry said. She led Christine to a large room filled with many beds.  
"I've arranged for you to sleep near my daughter, Meg. She is about your age. Maybe you can keep each other company. I hope you can eventually come to be happy here." With that, Madame Giry set the small suitcase on Christine's bed and left. Exhausted, Christine collapsed into her bed and slept.  
Christine woke up in the middle of the night. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and looked around. All around her, other girls were sleeping soundly. One bed next to her though, was empty. Then there was a trail of light trickling across the floor that caught her eye. Silently, she crept across the room, careful not to wake anyone. When she entered the hallway, she realized that the light was coming from a door at the end. She followed the light, and walked down an old stone staircase. At the bottom of the staircase, she found a small, timeworn chapel. Inside, she saw a small blonde girl kneeling before a cluster of candles. Her head was bowed in prayer, and Christine could see tears trailing down her delicate face. Christine, not wanting to intrude, turned to leave. The girl, hearing Christine's dress rustle, turned her head.  
"Oh I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to intrude. I didn't know you were down here, and when I saw you, I was just turning to leave," Christine whispered.  
"It's alright. I was just finishing up." Then, realizing she still had some tears trailing down her cheeks, she sniffled and wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. She smiled weakly. "I don't think I've ever seen you around here before. I'm Meg Giry."  
"I'm Christine Daae. I just got here this evening," Then, not wanting to be rude, but at the same time wanting to help, she said, "What's wrong?"  
"My father died a little over a year ago. It's still really hard not having him around. So I come down here a lot and pray."  
"Oh I'm so sorry! But I know how you feel. My father just died a few days ago."  
"Oh no! I apologize. I shouldn't have said anything. That's terrible of me to remind you of your loss!" Meg was genuinely upset. Then something seemed to dawn on her. "You're the young girl my mother went to fetch. She never told me the situation. I'm so sorry!"  
"It's alright," Christine said softly. "You didn't know."  
Then, the two girls smiled grimly at each other. This kind of immediate understanding led to an instant bond.  
"Well, I'll leave you be."  
"Okay, I'll see you in there."  
Meg left Christine to pray and be alone. After awhile, Christine crept back to her bed. The rest of the night, she slept a sound, dreamless sleep. She had no idea how. She'd been sure she'd be plagued by nightmares. But when she woke up, she could swear she heard a quiet voice singing above her, but it stopped before she could be sure…  
In the morning, she ate breakfast with Madame Giry and Meg. They ate in silence. When she was finished, Christine got ready for the funeral. Every once in awhile she would shed a tear. She barely noticed. It seemed like she was always in a constant state of crying lately and she feared she might always be.  
The funeral passed fairly quickly. Every minute was torture to Christine. In some ways, she wished it would hurry up and get over with so she could get past the pain. But mostly, she just wished she could be alone with her father. Just to talk to him one last time.  
She couldn't really pay much attention to the service. She just stared down at her father's face. _"At least he's at peace now,"_ she thought. They someone reached over and held her hand. Christine looked over to see Meg, with a look of complete understanding on her face. It wasn't until that moment that Christine realized she was sobbing.  
Finally, the service ended. Madame Giry, Meg and Christine, being the sole people in attendance, walked up to the casket.  
"Here, my dear," Madame Giry handed Christine a beautiful red rose with a black ribbon tied around it. This made Christine feel oddly comforted as she laid the rose on the casket just before it was lowered into the earth.  
"Goodbye, Father. I love you," she whispered.  
Then they turned and walked back to the carriage.


	4. Return to the Present

_Author's Note: I realize that in Leroux and ALW, Erik is born with his deformity, but in this chapter I take a little artistic liberty with it. I hope you enjoy!!!_

_Irena, thanks so much for your wonderful reviews! You're the best! More readers/reviewers welcome!!! ) _

* * *

Christine was snapped back into the present when the old grandfather clock chimed six o'clock.  
"My God, I've been daydreaming for an hour!" she realized.  
She looked up just as a sleepy-eyed Raoul was coming down the stairs.  
"Good morning sweetheart," Raoul said, leaning over to drop a kiss on her forehead. "How did you sleep?"  
Christine thought back to the restless sleep that had followed and clung to her unrelentingly, not allowing her any peace. Immediately, she thought back to the reason for that restlessness. That man who was at turns angelic or a phantom, who was always lurking at the edges of her mind…  
Feeling herself flush when she realized Raoul was still waiting for an answer, she managed to say, "Fine."  
"That's good," Raoul replied, still half asleep. "Have you eaten yet?"  
"No not yet. I was waiting for you." Christine looked up at her adoring fiancé and forced herself to smile, trying to refocus her attention back on him.  
"I'm sorry, dear. How long have you been waiting?"  
"Not long, only an hour. And actually, I was thinking about you, and us."  
"Me?"  
Christine smiled and, this time, it was genuine. She nodded. "I was thinking about when we first met down at the cove."  
"Ahh, I remember thinking you were so beautiful as soon as I saw you. And then I heard you sing for the first time, and I knew I was destined to love you my whole life. Those were happy times." Then, inevitably, their minds fast forwarded to the day Raoul left, and then the day Christine's father died.  
"I'm so sorry, Little Lotte. I'm so sorry you've had such a difficult life, and that I haven't been there to help you through it."  
"It's alright Raoul. I know you would've been there for me if you could've."  
"I love you Christine."  
"I love you too," and she meant it.  
Then they settled down to enjoy breakfast.

_At the same time, on the other side of Paris…_  
Erik opened one eye and groaned. _"Somehow God has seen fit to continue punishing me by keeping me alive,"_ he thought to himself. This had been part of his daily routine ever since he was old enough to formulate the thought. Well, that's not entirely true, if he was honest with himself. He hadn't thought that the two days that Christine was here with him…but he couldn't let himself go down that road.  
Erik climbed out from underneath the warm blankets and quickly wrapped a black silk robe around himself.  
"But she left you because you're insane, a _freak_," he sneered aloud to himself. But the pain, still fresh and raw was laced in his voice. "A freak…" he murmured to himself. Then, for perhaps the first time, he allowed himself to look at his surroundings through a stranger's eyes. After the fire, he had hidden away in a secret cluster of rooms for three days until his friend, Madame Giry, had snuck down to bring him food. Even she hadn't been sure what she would find down there.  
But now, looking around, Erik was satisfied with how he'd done in restoring his home. Glancing around his bedroom, he saw that it was completely in order. Looking ahead, his eyes swept across his beloved organ, where partially composed sheets of music sat gathering dust. He had been unable to write anything since Christine had left his life a month ago. To even try to compose caused him physical pain. And so, he felt doubly pained. The two things he loved with all his heart were so entwined with one another that to not have the one was to not have the other. The two things I love the most… _"Yes,"_ Erik admitted to himself, _"I still love Christine."_ When you've loved someone for so long, you can't just let go of those feelings overnight. Not even when that person had so completely rejected you.  
His eyes continued on, passing over the eerie, green lake, to the massive iron gate. That was where Erik had tied up that whining worm Raoul. Erik smiled at that thought. But then he thought of Christine, kissing him. When she kissed him, she was so full of love, he could feel it rolling off of her in waves. _"But,"_ he thought bitterly, _"that love was for Raoul, not me."_  
That made a growl rise up in his throat. _"But, that's not the first time a woman you love has left you because she despised. You should be used to it by now,"_ a voice inside his head reminded him viciously.  
_"This face, which earned a mother's fear and loathing…_ Erik stumbled over to the bed, blind with pain, as unwanted flashes of memory consumed him.  
He sees himself in his earliest memory. He looks up to see his parents standing on either side of him, screaming at each other. His mother, her hideous face forever etched into his memory, looks incredibly angry. Erik suspects that, had she had a happier life, she might've actually been very beautiful. But, looking up at her that very moment, she's monstrous. Her long, curly, greasy hair is pulled back tightly, emphasizing the vein throbbing at her temple. Her cheeks are bright red blotches of rage against her otherwise pale skin as she continues to rail at his father. In his memory, he can no longer hear the exact words they're screaming at each other, but he remembers the basics. His father is saying there's no way he can be a father to something that hideous. Suddenly, they both look down at him. His mother's icy blue-green eyes narrow and glare down at him with so much hate, it scares him. His father is looking at him similarly, though somehow through the years, he has forgotten his father's face. Now, when he looks up at his father, a flesh colored face with murky features stares back at him. Then mercifully, his father walked out of the room carrying a bag with his mother stumbled after him, clutching pitifully to his shirt sleeve. Then, his father stormed out of their hotel room without so much as a glance behind. That was the day she started drinking.  
His mother woke him up roughly later that night. It was around midnight when she came into his small room with a cloth sack in her hand. "You're hideous. I can't stand the sight of you!" Her words were slurred, but that did nothing to detract from their viciousness. He would've recognized the hatred in her eyes even if she would've been speaking in a foreign language. With that, she unceremoniously crammed an old burlap sack on his head. He had his first mask.  
It was through the eyes of that same mask that he saw his next memory in this horrible slideshow. This time, it was cold and raining, and he was outside with his mother and a short man with a huge belly and a mean face. Erik remembers the man handing his mother a few coins. Then the man grabs his arm and starts dragging him away. When Erik starts to call out to his mother, they both glare at him and the man raises his hand to strike him. Then Erik's world goes black.  
Mentally fast forwarding, he sees flashes of happier times. Antoinette rescuing him from the traveling fair, and exploring the opera house. Some of his happiest memories were of Madame Giry teaching him how to play the piano, and then his natural musical talent taking over.  
Then he thought about the day that some of his happiest times started. It was late at night, pitch black outside, and pouring rain. He saw Madame Giry coming around the back of the opera house with a young girl he'd never seen before.  
_"Probably just a new dancer,"_ he said to himself silently. But even from that distance, he could sense the sadness emanating from her. He could identify with that. She intrigued him.  
Later that night, she made her first visit to the little chapel. Through this, Erik learned that her father had died recently and she was grieving. She felt lost and out of place._"You're the only friend I've ever had, Father. Well, besides Raoul,"_ he heard her say to the lit candle in front of her. At the mention of this "Raoul", he felt and unfamiliar spurt of jealousy come up within him.  
_"…but even he left me."_ The jealousy calmed.  
Erik felt strangely drawn to this girl. He was surprised to realize that even though she was so physically beautiful, she could still feel pained, lost, and alone just like he did. Then, he felt this overwhelming desire to help and protect her.  
Then, he heard her ask her father about the Angel of Music. Erik was vaguely aware of the story. What he didn't know, Christine unconsciously filled in for him while she talked to her father.  
"Father, I know you're up in heaven now. I hope you've gotten a chance to talk to the Angel of Music about me. Now that you're gone, I feel so alone!" Christine started to weep into her hands. "I feel like all I have left now is my music. You told me you thought I could become a famous singer here, so I'll try my best for you." It was then that Erik developed his plan.  
He desperately wanted to comfort her. Aside from helping the young girl, he was also helping himself. He was lonely. Madame Giry couldn't sneak away from her duties very often. So the majority of the time, he was all alone. Normally, he didn't mind. In fact, he'd grown to prefer his isolation. His mother, and later, the traveling fair had taught him from an early age that society would never tolerate him. But seeing this girl awoke in him a need for human contact, for friendship. Maybe she would be different…  
He decided immediately that she could never see him, but they could talk through the walls. And so, beginning that night, he sang to her while she slept. He noticed how it seemed to soothe her and that delighted him.  
She went down to the chapel almost every night after dinner. After watching her down there for a week, he decided to talk to her. Taking a deep breath, he half sang, half whispered her name. "Christine…"  
She had been kneeling in front of the candle, staring at the small photo of her father beneath the flicking flame. When Erik spoke though, she jolted upright.  
"Hello?" she said. She was frightened, but also unsure if she'd heard anything at all.  
"Hello Christine," said a warm sweet voice coming from what seemed like the walls.  
"Who's there?" she asked. Then understanding and hope seemed to light up her pretty features. "Are you the Angel of Music?"  
Erik winced. This was the part of his plan that he hated. He felt bad lying to her, but he knew she would never accept him as himself. Besides, this way would be especially comforting and familiar to her.  
"Yes." And so it began.  
Over the years, Erik and Christine became good friends. She was able to talk to him like no one else. And oh how he sang! He spent hours teaching her through the walls how to use her gift and improve it.  
Then came that fateful night when Christine performed Hannibal. Angling his head up from the bowels of the opera house to catch every beautiful note she sang, Erik felt this new, powerful emotion wash over him. It was at once wonderful and then horribly painful. He finally realized and admitted to himself that he was in love with Christine. This filled him with indescribable joy. Then, almost immediately, his heart and soul felt like it plummeted to his feet as he realized his love would never be returned. He felt a heavy sadness come over him. But he knew it was best for Christine not to see him, or know the truth of who he was. But her heavenly voice singing to him from above seemed to gently nudge him…and so he formed a plan. He would gradually tell Christine the truth about him, apologize profusely for misleading her, but explain his motivation, and eventually, show her his face. He hoped she would cooperate and be willing to look past his physical flaws and mistakes and learn to love him as much as he loved her. Thinking back to their conversations, Erik assured himself that if anyone could accept him, it would be Christine.  
But then everything got out of control when that sniveling little boy, Raoul, showed up. Erik hadn't meant to berate Christine so harshly, but he was just so angry he couldn't help himself. He had just realized his love for Christine, and he had just made his plans so they could hopefully be together and this stranger shows up and tries to steal her away! With this new development, everything was escalating too quickly and Erik didn't know how to handle it. And suddenly, Christine was begging to see him, and he just couldn't help himself. He wanted her with him so badly!  
Abruptly, Erik was yanked out of these dangerous thoughts when he sensed someone near him. His eyes shot open and looked straight up into Madame Giry's blue ones. In them, he sees understanding and pity, but also disgust.  
"What are you doing?" she asked, even though she already knew the answer.  
"Thinking," he replied simply.  
"Erik, you need to stop living in the past and start focusing on the future," encouraged Madame Giry.  
"Ahh, Antoinette, ever the voice of reason," Erik replied wryly as he sat up on the side of the bed.  
"Well, it's true. You need to move on. Christine has," she said gently.  
Immediately, Erik's mind flashes to the image of Christine rowing away with that annoying little boy Raoul.  
"What could I possibly have to look forward to?" Erik growled a little more harshly than he'd meant to. "You said it yourself, Christine has moved on."  
"You have your music," she reminded him.  
"I haven't been able to play a note since she left," he spat back at her.  
Sighing in exasperation, she said, "You can't just sit down here feeling sorry for yourself all day, everyday. Life goes on. I've said it before and I'll say it again. I know your life has been very hard because of your disfiguration, but you could still live normally outside if you wanted to. I know you've only dealt with ignorant people who ridiculed you and exploited you for it. But there are a lot of decent people out there who, once they got to know the real you, would care about you as much as I do. Even Christine was able to look past your physical self and see your personality. And once you explain the circumstances of your disfiguration…  
Erik sighed, miserable. They'd had this conversation many times. "Am I a burden on you, Antoinette?"  
"Oh, dear, you know that's not what I was trying to say." She brushed a lock of hair from his forehead like a mother would a son.  
"I know, but without Christine to occupy my time these past few weeks, I've been doing a lot of thinking. I'm not sure if I've ever really thanked you for everything you've done for me. You saved my life, and, as miserable as it has been at times, I'm grateful to you for doing it. Then, you gave me a place to stay, encouraged me to practice and pursue my music. And to top it all off, you've always patiently put up with my…idiosyncrasies," he gave her a dry grin.  
"Oh, Erik. I've always known you've appreciated the things I've done for you."  
"Thank goodness. I just wanted to make sure I told you."  
Madame Giry leaned down and gave him a quick hug and said, "Be that as it may, I came down here for a couple of specific reasons. Here," she handed him the white mask that Meg had taken the night of the fire.  
Erik sucked in a breath and took the mask. He turned away for a moment, removed the hand that he had unconsciously used to cover his face when he saw Antoinette, and put the mask on. He exhaled, at once feeling more comfortable.  
"Where did you find it?" he asked quietly.  
"Meg took it. She tried to get down here before the mob and get you. When she got here, she couldn't find you, and assumed you'd gotten away safe. Then she found your mask and took it so it wouldn't get destroyed."  
Thinking back to that night, Erik felt immense shame. In the time since the fire, he'd finally been able to admit to himself that he'd gone temporarily insane. After all, what else could it have been? He'd set fire to his own home while hundreds of people where inside! His only consolation was that he'd come to his senses at the end and let Christine go. It had been an immensely painful thing to do, and as time passed, it only seemed to get worse. But it would've been indefinitely worse knowing that he was forcing the one person he loved to be with him, causing her pain and, ultimately, making them both miserable. Yes, at least he'd realized that before he had made anymore mistakes.  
"No one was seriously hurt, Erik," Madame Giry murmured.  
"What?"  
"That's one of the other things I came down here to tell you. The police issued an official statement this morning. No one was seriously injured in the fire. A couple of women got knocked down in the confusion, but even they are fine. So while I definitely don't agree with what you did," strong reproof crept into her voice, "at lease no one was hurt."  
"Thank God," he said, and he meant it. He was indeed grateful no one had been hurt. But he also felt incredible shame. He had not only basically destroyed the main place where the citizens of Paris came to get relief from life and be entertained, but worse, he had wrecked the place where many people lived and worked. He looked guiltily at Antoinette. After what had happened to him, how could he have put so many others at risk?  
Even years later, he could still smell the acrid smoke in his nostrils and feel it burning in his lungs. He could still imagine the house where he'd been born being swallowed up in flames, caving in all around him. He could still see the burning piece of debris falling from the rafters of their small house, then seem to come for him in slow motion, and scrape his face raw, only to fall dead and lifeless beside him like the Devil's advocate having served its purpose, now useless. All the while he had been too paralyzed with fear to move. Two days later, his drunken father had stumbled home for his latest trip to the local brothel and had completely abandoned Erik and his mother shortly after. Erik had been 4 years old.  
_"Knowing what I do, why would I inflict that pain upon others?"_ Erik tormented himself by asking silently.  
In the weeks following the fire, Erik had asked himself that very same question countless times. The only thing he could come up with is, in those moments of madness, he had been centered on revenge, wanting to cause pain to others in the best way he knew how.  
Madame Giry, sensing some of his inner torment, gently patted his hand. "Erik, I have some more news," she said.  
"What is it?"  
"Well, Andre and Firmin have announced that they are planning to rebuild the opera house. If they succeed, they are going to call it the _Opera Magnifique_." she paused, letting the news sink in.  
Erik sat in silence for a few moments, absorbing the implications. After awhile, he asked, "Already?"  
Up to this point, he had been unsure whether the managers would think it worthwhile to reconstruct the opera house, especially after his…activities.  
"Yes, already," Madame Giry continued, getting excited. "Andre and Firmin were never told that the original opera house was insured by some insurance company in London. They received more than enough money to rebuild a bigger opera house, and that's what they've decided to do. Of course," she smiled dryly at him, "that's because they think you're dead."  
Erik laughed, a little of the old arrogance returning. "Those fools. Did they really think I would allow myself to die in a fire that I set?" Then he thought of something. "Are they rebuilding _here_?" he asked.  
"No. They're buying the old _Jardin por les Anges_. Ironic, eh?"  
Erik smiled.  
"Anyway, they're going to restore the old park and build the Opera Magnifique right in the center."  
Erik remembered the park. It had once been beautiful, but had become rundown and overrun by weeds in the last decade. Erik thought that that would be a wonderful place to put the opera house once it had been restored. Thinking of the opera house made him sad though. He missed his music. He missed the rush he felt when he became inspired and his fingers couldn't keep up with his creative mind.  
Seeing the almost homesick look on Erik's face, Madame Giry said, "Erik, I have a plan."

Madame Giry's plan was simple enough.  
"Erik, since almost everyone believes you're dead, you should use that to your advantage. They're obviously not going to build the new opera house with all the catacombs, nooks and crannies that the old one had. I think they've learned their lesson on that one," she said, smiling at him, "And you can't stay here forever."  
"Why not?" Erik asked.  
"Because it's dangerous! Everything around here is about to collapse. You're already living unhealthily enough, and it's definitely not healthy to live all alone in an abandoned building. I know you miss people, Erik. I know, that deep down, you would love nothing more than to live normally among people and write operas to entertain others."  
"I _can't_ live normally!" he exclaimed. He didn't want to admit that, even though he mainly composed for himself, she was still right.  
"Yes, you can, dear. If you follow my plan, you can."  
Erik gave her a suspicious look, but there was as gleam of hope in his eyes, "What's your plan?"  
"Well, as I said before, since most people think you're dead, you should use that to your benefit. I think you should live with Meg and I while the new opera house is constructed. That way, you'd feel comfortable, but you could still relearn how to live with other people. Then, when you felt ready, you could reveal that you're still alive and also show everyone the real you. As soon as people get to know what a wonderful person you really are, they will love and accept you. And you'll finally be able to find true happiness.  
Erik looked at her skeptically, but somehow throughout the years, the flame of hope still flickered in his eyes. "If you really think this'll work…"  
"I do."  
"Then I'll do it."  
The next morning, Christine again woke up hearing her Angel's voice singing to her softly. As his soft voice receded into some strange depths of her mind, she felt lonesome for him. She felt a longing that she couldn't define and didn't dare let herself focus on. She was afraid of what she would find out about herself if she did.  
Christine had thought this early morning ritual would stop when she left the Opera Populaire and come to live with Raoul. But this kept happening every morning. He was so ingrained and intertwined with the very fiber of her being that she didn't think there'd be a day when she didn't think of him. And she didn't know if she ever wanted there to be.  
"_What is wrong with me!?_" she thought, "I have been over and over this. I've made my choice. I need to be with Raoul. He's a good friend. He's normal, comfortable, safe. _Sane_, for God's sake! He could take good care of her, and she'd never have to worry about him killing someone just to relieve the tension after a bad day," she shuddered. _"Is that really what you think of your Angel?"_ she answered herself honestly. "_No._ There must be something more that I don't know. He really isn't some cold blooded murderer. But could I ever forgive him, trust him? I mean, he perpetuated a lie that he was an Angel, the spirit of my father! Could she really be with someone who could lie to her about something that important, that easily? _But,_" she reasoned with herself, "_I think he just did it to make me feel better, to get over the loss of my father. And he did what he'd promised – taught her to sing. _

_"He was bound to love you, when he heard you sing…"_

Where had _that_ come from? She'd never heard that before. And yet… she could almost hear her Angel whispering the words in her ear… Regardless of their source though, they did raise an interesting point. Would Raoul have ever even noticed her if she wouldn't have sang that night? At least she knew her Angel appreciated her voice, but loved her for who she was. Did Raoul? She wasn't ready to answer that, not yet. Okay, she wouldn't think about that yet. If none of the terrible things had never happened: the lies, the murders, the fire, could I ever live with him?  
Again, she was honest with herself. _"No,_ she thought, _at least not the way I left him. I need to live in the light, with people. But if he could change…No! You made your choice._ But immediately her heart asked her, _But was it the right one?_ Christine shook her head and started to cry, miserable when she realized that she hadn't really decided anything.

Later that afternoon, as they were being served lunch, Raoul said, "I'm leaving this afternoon."  
"Oh?" This was the first Christine had heard of it. But she figured he was probably just going shopping again. _"Ugh,"_ she thought, _"He shops more often than most women I know."_  
"Yes, I'm going to go to London for a few days on business. While I'm there, some old friends and I are going to do some hunting. And I thought while I was there, I might do some shopping."  
"How long will you be gone?" Christine asked. She had come to depend on Raoul over these last few weeks. It would be strange not having him around. Plus, she still felt really uncomfortable having all these servants around. It unnerved her to never truly have privacy.  
"Probably just a fortnight," he replied. Then, as if thinking about Christine for the first time, he apologized. "I'm sorry darling. I just thought, you've been doing so well here lately. I should've told you about it before this. I'm sorry. But I'm just going to be with a bunch of stuffy aristocrats all week. You wouldn't know anyone but me, and I'll be so busy…" he trailed off.  
"No, it's alright," Christine said, trying to cover her disappointment. She wondered if she should start getting used to this. She imagined this might happen often as Raoul's wife.  
"Thanks, darling." Raoul's face brightened. If he noticed how Christine was feeling, he didn't show it.  
They ate for a few moments in silence. Then suddenly Raoul announced, "I think we should have a party."  
"What?" Christine was caught off guard. Mentally she tried to recall the date if there were some holiday she'd forgotten about that was close by. No, no such luck. Finally, she asked, "Why?"  
"Because, like I said, you don't know anyone. I think we should throw a party so you can be officially introduced to Parisian society. Call it an engagement party, if you like. That way, you could meet all my friends." His face began to light up as the idea started to take hold.  
Christine felt a growing sense of unease. It wasn't that she minded being in front of people. After all, she was a trained performer. She just felt incredibly uncomfortable being up close and personal with people like Raoul's friends. She knew that sounded terrible, but they had all been born with the proverbial silver spoon firmly in place in their mouths. She, other the other hand, had come from very simple means. People like Raoul and his friends were concerned with things that she had no knowledge of. And so, she felt incredibly apprehensive and lonely listening to Raoul go on about this party where she was to meet his friends.  
"…and I was thinking, you should sing for us," Christine had been lost in her own thoughts and had only just caught the last thing he said. His words stopped her cold.  
"You want me to sing?" Christine was incredulous and she felt betrayed. She didn't understand why.  
"Of course I want you to sing. You have a beautiful voice and I'm sure my friends would love to listen to you."  
Christine was shocked. Could she sing? She hadn't sung yet since they left the opera house that final time. And although she missed it, doing so would probably bring back a lot of painful memories: being with her father when she was younger, all the lessons her Angel had given her, and the conversations that had transpired after them, and, most recently, the last time she had sung anything. That night still replayed itself constantly in her mind: devising the plan that would ensnare her Angel, singing "Point of No Return" with him and then watching his spirit crumble before her eyes as he gave her up and she rowed away with Raoul. She was so afraid that if she sang again, those memories would never stop haunting her. But how she missed singing! She missed the exhilaration when she sang an exceptionally high note just right. She missed the power she felt as she sang an opera and it built and built, just to explode in a deafening crescendo. She missed the slight pause after she finished a song, her anticipation of a deep appreciative voice whispering praise and encouragement to her through the walls…  
Sensing her hesitation to agree to sing, Raoul tried to be encouraging. "Darling, it's been a month. You don't need him to sing. You can sing beautifully by yourself, for yourself. That's why I fell in love with you."  
Christine knew he meant it as a compliment, but it stung. Hadn't she just been asking herself if Raoul loved her for her voice, or for her soul? Again, she wondered, _"Would he have even noticed you if he hadn't heard you sing?"_

_"He was bound to love you, when he heard you sing…"_

Where had that come from? She'd never heard it before, but lately, she kept hearing it float through her mind, niggling at her subconscious.  
Suddenly, Christine felt completely overwhelmed. She had started questioning her decision to be with Raoul almost immediately and now she'd be all alone for at least seven days, and they were going to have a party where she'd meet people she felt incredibly uncomfortable around, but for whom she was supposed to sing. She decided she needed to go rest for awhile. She looked up to tell Raoul she was going to rest, and she saw him staring hard at the newspaper. His expression looked frozen to his pretty face. He looked inexplicably afraid and angry all at once.  
"What is it?" she asked, concerned.  
"Nothing," Raoul replied, a little too quickly.  
Christine got up, walked down to Raoul's end of the table, and snatched the paper up. A moment later her eyes widened.  
**PLANS TO REBUILD OPERA HOUSE SET IN MOTION**  
the front page boldly declared. Gripping the paper, Christine sake down into a chair, her eyes never leaving the page.  
"The opera house will be rebuilt! The news was released yesterday. Monsieurs Andre and Firmin, the managers of the formerly glorious Opera Populaire, have decided to rebuild. The new opera house will be called the Opera Magnifique. The managers have decided it will be located on a new site, the Jardin Por Les Anges. The new opera house promises to be bigger and better than any other known to man. In a related story, there were no reported fatalities in the fire that occurred at the former opera house last month, and only a few minor injuries…"  
Christine stopped reading. There was a roaring in her ears. This was just too much all at once. Part of her felt happy that everyone had made it out safe and sound. But when she thought back to the fire, her mouth turned to dust. Christine felt like she was going to be sick. She definitely needed to lie down. Feeling like she was in a dream, she set the newspaper down, and walked upstairs without a word. She could feel Raoul's concerned eyes on her, but she couldn't talk to him now. Her last thought before she drifted off to sleep was that there was only one man she wanted to comfort her, and it wasn't her fiancé.  
An hour later, Christine's eyelids fluttered open. At the sight of someone standing over her, she shot up in bed, her heart racing.  
"Relax, honey," Raoul said soothingly, "it's just me."  
Her eyes focused in on Raoul's kind face, and she just nodded.  
"Well, it's time for me to go," he said softly.  
Then Christine noticed the suitcase sitting next to him for the first time. She was filled with alarm. What was she supposed to do in a big house with a bunch of servants all alone for a week? She asked Raoul.  
He smiled. "Invite Meg over. I think she'll love it! Take her shopping or something."  
He was right. Meg would love it. And Christine missed her best friend. After seeing someone everyday for the last nine years, it was hard not to see them for a month. Having made that decision, Christine felt better.  
Raoul leaned down and hugged Christine, holding her close for a few moments. She squeezed back. They kissed softly.  
"I love you, Christine."  
"I love you too. Be careful on your trip, and have fun with your friends."  
For just a second, Christine thought she saw a look of guilt pass over his features. But it was gone so fast, she thought she imagined it.  
He gave her a slightly nervous smile, "I will. Goodbye, my love." And he turned and left.  
Christine, exhausted, fell back to sleep and slept soundly through the night.


	5. An Invitation

The next morning, Christine woke up feeling well rested and oddly, at peace. As usual, a ghostly voice was just receding into the back of her mind as she became fully awake.  
She was actually happy today, she thought as she got out of bed and walked downstairs. It might be nice to just be alone before she visited Meg this afternoon.  
"Good morning, Miss Daae," her maidservant Natalia said.  
_"Of course,"_ Christine thought, smiling wryly to herself, _"one is never really alone in this house."_  
"Would you like some breakfast?"  
"That sounds great. Thanks, Natalia," and then she settled down for a morning for relaxation. It passed quickly. But it was very relaxing and refreshing to just be by herself for awhile.  
Around noon, Christine decided to go visit Meg. She showered and dressed quickly, then took Raoul's carriage to Meg's house.  
When she got near to the Opera Populaire, she sucked her breath in. Seeing the charred, blackened shell of a building that was formerly so beautiful and opulent brought reality back hard. For the first time, she allowed herself to think of her Angel's safety, and his mortality. _Could he have been injured? _she wondered worriedly. Up to this point, she had assured herself that he must be fine. After all, he seemed almost…untouchable. But seeing the devastation to the building…  
All of a sudden, they were pulling up to the small cottage near the opera house that Meg shared with her mother. Christine walked up to the door and paused as she heard what sounded like a fervent conversation. Words were muffled by the heavy door, but she could make out some words.  
"…sure it's alright with you if he stays here for awhile?"  
"…already told you…promise I'm fine with it."  
Then, the conversation seemed like it was over. Christine hesitated, then knocked. A moment later, Christine pulled open the door.  
"Christine! What are you doing here?" Meg asked, pleased.  
"Raoul just told me this morning that he'll be in London on business for at least a fortnight. Then he suggested I take you shopping." She smiled.  
No sooner had the words left her mouth, then Meg was squealing with girlish delight and yanking Christine inside.  
"Let me get dressed really quickly and we can go," Meg said excitedly.  
"Well, you might as well pack for a few days. Like I said, Raoul's going to be gone and I don't want to be alone that long."  
"You want _me_ to come stay with _you_ in that big beautiful house?"  
"Yes. If you want to."  
Meg and Christine both smiled. "Of course I want to!" Meg said. "Ok. So let me get packed really quick and then I'll just go home with you."  
Madame Giry shot her daughter a look.  
"I mean…after we go shopping, you can bring me back here. We're having company," Meg said cryptically, "and I need to make room for them. Then I can pack and meet you at Raoul's house."  
"Okay," Christine said slowly, obviously confused. "Who's visiting?"  
A pained looked onto Madame Giry's face and then disappeared. "It's complicated, my dear."  
"I see," Christine replied, even though she really didn't.  
Meg left to get ready and returned a few moments later looking beautiful. Christine, for all her gifts from Raoul, felt underdressed standing next to Meg.  
"Are we ready?" Meg asked, anxious to let the shopping begin.  
"Yes, let's go."  
The girls said goodbye to Antoinette and got into the carriage.  
Soon the carriage reached the town square filled with little boutiques. When the carriage stopped, Meg said, "as anxious as I am to start shopping, I'm more anxious to catch up! Let's sit down somewhere and talk."  
"Okay." After giving instructions to the carriage driver, they went to a small café on the corner.  
"So are we going shopping for anything specific?" Meg asked.  
"Well, I suppose we could be. Raoul decided this morning that when he comes back from London we're going to have a party to introduce me to some of his friends."  
"A party?!" Meg was thrilled.  
"Well, I'm glad one of us is happy about it."  
"Why? Aren't you?"  
"People like Raoul's friends don't have anything in common with me and I kind of feel uncomfortable around them," Christine admitted.  
"Well, can I come?" Hope was shining in her eyes.  
"Of course you can!"  
"Well, see, there you are. Between Raoul and I, we'll keep you entertained and happy."  
Christine smiled. She actually felt better.  
"Now let's go shopping!" When Meg and Christine left their table, Meg was already talking excitedly. "Do you think any of Raoul's friends will be rich, handsome, and single…?" Christine just rolled her eyes, shook her head, and they kept walking.  
A few hours later, Christine and Meg returned to their same little table. Laughing and exhausted, they collapsed into their chairs, happy with their results. Christine bought a peach colored dress that shimmered in candlelight, and complimented the warm brown tone of her eyes and hair. Meg had purchased a golden yellow colored dress that emphasized her warm honeyed skin tone.   
After taking a couple of deep breaths and resting for a moment, Meg asked, "So how are things going with Raoul?"  
"It's going well," but Christine didn't sound confident.  
"What's wrong?"  
"Well, it's just that I feel like I am missing a huge part of my life. I haven't been able to sing since I left—"   
"—Erik." Meg finished. Then, seeing Christine freeze, wished she could snatch the word back.  
"Is that—," her throat clogged, "—is that his name?"  
"Yes," Meg said quietly. "I'm sorry Christine. I thought you knew."  
"Erik…" Christine tasted it and decided she liked it. She took in this new bit of information hungrily, which surprised and scared her. She was overcome with a strange feeling. Knowing her Angel's name…Erik…made him seem more real, human, tangible. All her life, she'd seen him as a heavenly being. She still wasn't over the shock of realizing all that he was, but somehow his name seemed to fit. But it made Christine wonder, _how much do I really know about him?_  
"How do _you_ know his name, Meg?" Christine was surprised by the anger and jealousy she suddenly felt.  
"Well, about three years ago when the "accidents" started happening around the opera house, I was really scared and talked to my mother about them. She kept insisting they were harmless and I demanded to know how she could say that. Finally, she told me about Erik and how he came to be in the opera house."  
"Tell me," Christine demanded breathlessly.  
And so Meg told Christine everything she knew of Erik's life. The fire that caused his deformity, his mother selling him to the traveling fair, Madame Giry rescuing him and having him live in the opera house. By the end of it, Christine was sobbing. She thought back to all the conversations they'd had. There'd been numerous times when they'd talked long into the night after he'd already spent hours helping her to mold and shape her voice until she barely recognized it, and yet this was the first she'd learned about any of this. All the fond memories, combined with this flood of new information, overwhelmed her. She felt pain wash over her as she thought of how lonely she must've felt all of his life…how lonely he must still feel.  
"Oh my God," she said, completely miserable. After all the hurt he'd suffered from everyone he'd ever encountered, he'd actually had the courage to reveal that he loved her. And she had not only spurned his love, she flaunted her relationship with Raoul. _Oh my God,_ she thought, _he must despise me!_ That thought filled her with such suffering, that she pressed her fingers to her temples to try to keep it away.   
"Christine, are you alright?" Meg asked, concerned.  
"Yes," she sighed, "I'm fine. Let's just go home."  
A few minutes later, Christine's carriage came to pick them up. When they stopped at the Giry house to drop Meg off, dusk was just settling in. The sky was a mix of blazing orange and cool indigo. The clouds looked like random brush strokes creating ribboned trails across the heavens.  
"I should be done getting ready for…our company in a couple of hours. Then I'll be over," Meg said.  
"Alright. See you then."   
Christine rode home alone in silence. Her mind was still swimming with all the new knowledge she had about her Angel.  
Finally, the carriage pulled up to the front of Raoul's huge house. It looked so cold and impersonal from down here. She dreaded being in there alone all week.  
_Thank God Meg will be here with me_, she thought.   
She went upstairs and lay back down and rested. A couple of hours later, she was ripped from a dream in which she was talking to Raoul and they were both crying. When she woke up to see Meg smiling down at her, however, the vague fragments of her dream floated away.   
"How's your company doing?" Christine asked sleepily.  
"Uh, fine," Meg said uncertainly, then smiled. Luckily Christine didn't notice.  
"That's good," Christine said through a yawn.   
"What should we do now?"  
Christine was about to respond when George, the butler, knocked on her bedroom door.  
"Excusez-moi, mademoiselles, le Vicomte left instructions that while he was gone, we were to start preparing dishes for you to try. Cook has been busy all day, but he says he's ready."  
The girls looked at each other and grinned. They raced down the stairs and in the dining room, the long oak table was covered with steaming dishes of delicious food. An hour and a half later, after much laughter and deliberation, the girls decided what foods would be served at the party. Christine hoped Raoul would be pleased.  
The next week flew quickly with the girls preparing for the party and just being together like old times. Christine was so grateful having Meg there to help her with all the decisions. But by silent agreement, they never spoke of Erik.  
Then suddenly, Raoul was coming home. Christine was depending on him to distract her from Erik. She was successfully distracted as she ran down the spiral staircase to the front foyer just as Raoul was opening the door. She immediately launched herself into his arms. Raoul laughed, swept her up and twirled her around the foyer, kissing her.  
"Oh honey, I've missed you!" Raoul said, laughing.   
"I've missed you too!"  
Raoul set his fiancé down. "What have you two been up to?"  
"We've been getting ready for the party." Then Christine went on to tell him all the decisions they'd made.  
"Well, it sounds like this is going to be a wonderful party tomorrow afternoon."  
Christine smiled at the praise—she'd been nervous about making a mistake. "What've you been up to, darling?" Christine asked.  
There it was again. That guilty look that passed over his features briefly and in an instant, was gone. "Oh, not a whole lot. I met with my bankers just to check on some things. Then I met up with some prep school friends of mine in London. It was a good trip," he said, sounding at the end like he was trying to convince himself.  
Christine was puzzled by his behavior, but assumed he was just tired from the sail home. "So who _are_ these friends of yours? How many people are coming? George had me select enough food to feed an army!"  
Raoul smiled at his fiancée. Knowing George, he was sure she wasn't exaggerating.  
"There are only three people coming. Actually, they're the children of my bankers and I've been friends with them for as long as I can remember.  
Christine felt relieved. Only three people were coming! She thought could handle that, especially with Raoul and Meg there to make her feel more comfortable. She told Raoul this just as he was hugging Meg hello.  
The smile froze on his face. Slowly, he let go of Meg and mouthed to Christine over her head, _We need to talk._  
Christine, bewildered, said, "Meg, could you excuse us for a minute?"  
"Sure," Meg said just as Raoul grabbed Christine's arm and dragged her away. Once the door was closed on the next room, he whirled on her.  
"You invited Meg to the party?" Raoul asked her incredulously.  
"Of course I did. She's my best friend," Christine said defensively. She was completely shocked by Raoul's change in attitude, and she didn't like it.  
Raoul had started pacing the floor nervously.  
"Raoul, what's wrong with me inviting Meg?" Christine asked.  
"Nothing honey. It's just that…" he paused, bracing himself to finish what he was saying, and tried again. "Well, it's just that I already had to work hard this week explaining you to my friends…and [i_you're[/i_ an accomplished singer and the daughter of a famous violinist. And Meg…" he trailed off.  
Christine was seeing red. "You had to _explain_ me to your friends?! Just how did you _explain_ me to them exactly? And Meg is a wonderful person. She's your _friend_ Raoul. Christine's voice had risen with each syllable. She was now flat out shouting.  
"It's not as bad as it sounds," he said, by way of explanation. "It's just that my friends are very wealthy. But they're incredibly nice people. They were just raised that wealthy people should marry other wealthy people. They just don't understand people of a different…social status."  
Christine was utterly appalled. "What about marrying for love? My God, who are these people? If they were so opposed to you _marrying beneath your means, _why in the world do you want me to meet them!?"  
"I know, my love, I know. And that's what I explained to them, and honestly, they really are nice people. They don't mind so much that I'm marrying someone who isn't wealthy, they…it's complicated."  
"What is it?" Christine asked, still angry.  
Raoul sighed sadly, regretfully, and said, "it's ancient history. Just drop it. Meg can come to the party."  
Christine left the room without saying so much as a thank you because she knew this shouldn't have been an issue in the first place. Then, she went and talked to Meg, who had heard none of the exchange, as if nothing had happened.  
Later that night, Meg was too excited to sleep and prattled on about the party. Christine smiled halfheartedly at her friend's enthusiasm. She tried to be excited too, but all she could do was replay her conversation with her fiancé, a man she was beginning to fear she hardly knew.


	6. A Party, A Reunion

The next morning, Meg was awake early, too excited to sleep any longer. Christine was dreading getting out of bed, but finally Meg prevailed and they got up at eight am. Raoul was already eating breakfast when they came downstairs.  
"Good morning, ladies," Raoul said cheerfully. He smiled at them both then looked away quickly when Christine glared at him.  
She was still angry at him for implying that she and Meg were not good enough to associate with his friends. Worse still, he'd made it sound like they were an embarrassment to him. Just thinking about it made Christine shake with rage all over again. Meg, completely unaware of all this, suggested they eat a light breakfast. The meal would've been completely silent had Meg not been there to talk about the party.  
After breakfast, the girls left to get ready. They dressed rather quickly, then fussed for a long time over how to do their hair. Finally, they emerged and walked slowly down the spiral staircase. Raoul was at the bottom, grinning appreciatively. Meg had curled her hair and piled it high atop her head. Christine had done something similar. Both girls looked incredibly beautiful and smiled at the knowledge.  
"You both look absolutely gorgeous," Raoul assured them, then kissed both girls softly on the cheek.  
Just then, they heard voices and a knock at the door. George opened the door and ushered two young men and a beautiful woman inside and took their coats.  
"How are you, George? I haven't seen you in quite awhile," one of the men said.  
"Quite well, Master Phillip. And how are you?"  
"Doing well myself."  
Just then Raoul crossed the foyer with a huge grin on his face and embraced and greeted all three people warmly.  
Then the other young man asked, "So where's this fiancée of yours?"  
"Ahh, right here."  
Raoul gestured up a bit, and Christine and Meg walked over to the group. Raoul made introductions. "Phil, Teddy, Geni, this is my fiancée Christine Daae, and her good friend, Meg Giry." The girls curtsied slightly. "And ladies, these gentlemen are Phillip and Theodore Trudeau, and this is their little sister Genevieve." Raoul's eyes met the young woman's for just a moment and held. Teddy was looking at Meg appreciatively.  
"Well, let's sit down and get acquainted," Teddy suggested. He looked over at Christine and smiled encouragingly, as if he suspected how she was feeling. Raoul put his arm around her as they all walked into the dining room together.  
Everyone inhaled the scents coming from the dishes on the table. Everyone chose a place to sit and did so. The seating arrangement made Christine feel a little uneasy. Christine had chosen an end seat, and Raoul had sat down next to her, but then Genevieve rushed to the chair next to him. Opposite Christine, Teddy sat down and invited Meg to sit next to him, leaving Phillip sitting across from his sister. Meg was utterly thrilled.  
As they were served the first course, Genevieve said approvingly, "Raoul, this looks delicious."  
"Well, I can't really take the credit. Christine selected everything in my absence," he smiled at Christine.  
Genevieve leaned forward so she could make eye contact with Christine and said, "Job well done. This is perfect."  
Christine smiled. Maybe she'd been all wrong. Maybe Raoul didn't know exactly how his friends felt and this wouldn't be so bad after all.  
"So Christine, Raoul tells us you are in the ballet at the opera house. How do you like that?" Phillip asked. He gave Christine a small, polite smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes so it looked more like a sneer.  
Christine took a deep breath and tried to quell the feeling that she was being threatened in some way. She was about to respond, when Teddy jumped to her defense. "Actually, Phil," he corrected mildly, "he told us she _used_ to be in the ballet, which is marvelous enough, but that she now sings in the operas," he smiled at her.  
"I think it would be terribly exciting to be in the opera," Genevieve said.  
"I actually dance in the ballet as well," Meg volunteered shyly.  
"I knew it!" Teddy exclaimed. Then he explained, "you move very gracefully and I suspected you might."  
Meg blushed at the compliment and thanked him.  
"So how did Raoul meet the three of you exactly?" Christine wanted to shift the spotlight from herself as much as possible.  
"Well, our fathers are good friends," Teddy said, "and, incidentally, our family owns a bank and Raoul and his family all bank with us. We've all known each other since we were babies. Phil and I are twins and Geni is two years younger than us."  
Actually, all three of them could be triplets. All of them were very good looking being tall, trim, with dark skin and dark brown hair. Their most striking feature, however, was the startling blue green of their eyes. Geni looked especially beautiful just then in her gown that was the exact same color. The only way to tell the boys apart, aside from their clothing, was their demeanor. Teddy was very happy and fun loving. Phillip was much more serious, but nonetheless, generally good natured.  
The luncheon was winding down. Christine asked Teddy, "so tell me a story about Raoul as a teenager."  
"I'd love to, but to be honest, when we got older, we didn't see Raoul much. He was always with Geni. And when they got engaged…" he trailed off, smiled, and shrugged.  
Meg gagged on the water she'd been sipping. Christine looked horrified. And Raoul just closed his eyes and groaned.  
"Dear God, man, didn't you tell her?" Teddy asked, incredulous.  
Raoul, eyes still closed, just shook his head, a pained expression on his face.  
Genevieve's face was on fire. She could feel the heat of embarrassment creeping up the back of her neck and burning its way onto her cheeks.  
Teddy had the most apologetic look on his handsome face. "Christine, forgive me. I just assumed he would tell you. I am so sorry."  
Christine just nodded numbly. All she kept thinking was _"Raoul just spent the last week with his ex fiancée. He never even told me he was engaged before! And she's so much like him, and she's beautiful, and—"_something clicked,_"all those guilty looks he's been giving me…"_ "Oh God," she whispered.  
Since Raoul was just sitting there dumbfounded, Genevieve rushed to remedy and explain the situation. "Christine, you don't have to worry. There's nothing going on between me and Raoul now. It ended years ago." Was she trying to convince herself? Christine caught the unmistakable sadness in her voice.  
At Geni's words, Raoul finally looked up, "Christine, I wasn't expecting any of this to ever be brought up. So I thought it was pointless to even mention it."  
"What…" she swallowed, tried again, "what happened between you two, if I may ask?"  
"Our engagement had been planned and anticipated since we were young, but Raoul finished school in London and moved back here to Paris. And I was still much too young to get married, so we decided the only sensible thing to do would be to call off the engagement," Genevieve explained.  
"That's right," said Raoul, picking up the narrative, "and then Geni got engaged to Luke and I became patron of the opera house and found you again Christine."  
"Luke and I aren't engaged anymore," Geni amended softly, "we broke up."  
An unbridled look of hope and then immediately a look of sadness came over Raoul's face as he allowed himself to think of what might have been for just a moment.  
Suddenly, that claustrophobic feeling overcame Christine again. Too much was happening too quickly. She'd just learned that, if only Geni had been a bit older, she and Raoul would be married right now. And then she'd gotten engaged to someone else, but now she was available. And for just a moment, Christine had seen that look of disappointment on Raoul's face. She felt like she might be sick.  
Trying to ease the tension, Phillip suggested, "Why don't we all go into the drawing room. I'd love to hear miss Daae sing for us." He smiled warmly at her for the first time.  
Everyone thought this was a wonderful idea. So they all went into the drawing room, Raoul guiding Christine in with his hand on the small of her back, Geni following closely behind. Meg sat down at the piano, and Christine took her place in front of it, facing the small seating area. She looked back at Meg and shook her head. For the last few days, a song she'd never heard before had been running through her head, and she had an overwhelming desire to sing it now. She didn't understand, but she kept hearing her Angel sing it in a melancholy voice, choked with emotion. She had to sing that song now, knew she didn't have a choice. Slowly, she began singing…

_Child of the wilderness  
Born into emptiness  
Learn to be lonely  
Learn to find your way in darkness  
Who will be there for you  
Comfort and care for you  
Learn to be lonely  
Learn to be your one companion  
Never dreamed out in the world  
There are arms to hold you  
You've always known your heart was on its own  
So laugh in your loneliness  
Child of the wilderness  
Learn to be lonely  
Learn how to love life that is lived alone  
Learn to be lonely  
Life can be lived life can be loved alone_

It was a short song, but while she sang it, she looked, not in the faces before her, but through the open window in the room, as if she could look across the distance and see her Angel's face. When she was finished, she mentally rejoined the room and focused on her audience for the first time. Everyone was stunned. Although, whether it was because of her voice or because of the sadness of the song, she was not sure.  
"Christine, that was beautiful," Phillip said softly. "Thank you for singing for us."  
Everyone nodded their agreement.  
Christine smiled, appreciating the praise. But this overwhelmed, suffocating feeling had not lessened after she sang the song, as she'd thought it would. If anything, it had gotten even more unbearable.  
Then, their guests returned to normal conversation. Raoul leaned over and whispered something to Genevieve and she giggled. Their hands brushed briefly. Christine, barely able to contain herself, looked to Meg for refuge. After all, that's why she'd especially wanted her to come to the party. Meg and Teddy, however, were busy flirting with each other. Even Phillip was occupied, receiving a cigar from George.  
Not really knowing what to do with herself, she awkwardly sat on the other side of Raoul on the sofa. By that time, they'd begun a political debate. Now that she was through singing, she felt out of her element. So, she just sat quietly and listened as Raoul and Genevieve talked. Suddenly, Geni and Raoul burst out laughing at some secret joke that Christine didn't understand. Looking at the two of them, sitting so closely and exchanging those private little looks, their close relationship became obvious. It was easy to see how well they got along, and how easy it would be for them to fall back into their more intimate relationship. Tears filling her eyes, she sat in silence and watched her fiancé. She felt like he was being slowly pulled away from her, out of her reach, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.  
And so it went for what was left of the evening. Finally, the Trudeau's decided it was time to leave, just as dusk was settling in. All three of them said goodnight to all Raoul, Christine and Meg. They genuinely expressed how much fun they'd had, how delightful Christine's singing had been, and how they should all get together before they went back to London. Raoul closed the door, and Meg squealed, grabbed Christine's hand, and dragged her out to the carriage.  
"Bye, Raoul," she called behind her hastily and slammed the door closed.  
Climbing into the carriage, Meg immediately launched into excitedly telling Christine about her conversation with Teddy.  
"Oh Christine, he's so wonderful! He's so sweet and intelligent and absolutely gorgeous!" Meg gushed.  
"What did you two talk about?" Christine asked, smiling. Despite her own overwhelming sadness, Meg's happiness was contagious, and Christine was really interested in what had happened.  
Meg excitedly replayed the conversation through the whole carriage ride back to the Giry home.  
"Well, we just talked about what we do, and our hobbies and likes and dislikes. And he was really interested in what I had to say, and never made me feel stupid. Christine, he was such a gentleman!"  
Since they had reached Meg's house, Christine smiled and hugged her friend. "I'm so happy you had a good night tonight."  
Meg realized she hadn't noticed or asked how Christine's evening went, asked her.  
"We'll talk about it later."  
That gave Meg a worried look.  
"Don't worry, we'll talk about it later," Christine said reassuringly. "For now, just go inside."  
"Are you sure you don't want me to stay with you?"  
"No, that's alright."  
"Okay," Meg said uneasily, and slowly, hesitantly got out of the carriage. Walking into the house, she turned and looked back at Christine. Christine waved her on. Finally, she went into the house.

Christine breathed a sigh of relief, and slowly the carriage made its way down the Giry drive. At the end of the drive, Christine asked the driver to stop and sent him home.  
"Are you sure miss? We're an awful long way from the estate."  
"It's alright, Jacques, I just need to get some fresh air and take a walk. When I need a ride back, I'll just walk back to Meg's."  
"Well, alright."  
Finally, he left her. And just in the nick of time. Ever since she'd heard Meg say his name…_Erik_…there was roaring in her ears. And then, she'd heard the story of his life and she just couldn't stand it! And watching Geni and Raoul had driven her crazy! She'd instantly become restless, mentally pacing in circles until she could…  
Until she could what?  
Go to him.  
Suddenly, she knew she had to go back to Erik.  
As if sensing her forbidden decision, the heavens opened up. Christine hadn't noticed that the sky had suddenly gone pitch black with thick, full thunderheads, ready to burst. Already she was soaked. She turned and looked down the drive at the Giry's safe little home. She could just go there and wait out the storm…  
No!  
She could feel every fiber of her body being pulled, almost magnetically, toward the opera house, looming darkly in the distance. Entranced, she began running toward the Phantom's lair, across the huge field that separated the Giry's from the back of the opera house.  
Finally, she was almost there! She could see the metallic door handle glint when lightening struck. Her legs, throat, and lungs were screaming, but just a few more meters and—  
Slam! She fell to her hands and knees awkwardly. Looking behind her, she saw that she'd tripped over a large stone, invisible in the darkness. Getting back up, she tried to start running again, but cried out in pain when her right ankle protested. Her eyes teared up from stress and pure exhaustion. Then, by pure determination, she raised herself up and hobbled to the back door. She opened, entered, and collapsed again the door, slamming it shut. This caused a resounding crack that echoed down the halls.

_In the bowels of the opera house…_

"What was that!" Erik asked himself. For the past three hours, he'd been trying, willing himself, to compose something. So far, he hadn't written a single note. Now, he got up from before the organ and ran silently up the stairs that would lead him to the back of the opera house. He leaped agilely into the rafters, and crept toward the end of the hallway. When he got near the door, all the blood rushed to his head. He swore he must be hallucinating, because if he wasn't, then Christine was just below him in the hallway. And that was impossible. She'd left him for Raoul. Unless…  
"No," he thought, "that's impossible." Then, Christine tilted her head up just a little bit, and he could see that she was in pain. Her teeth were clenched and there were tears flowing down her precious face. Oh, his poor darling might've gotten injured somehow. If Raoul had hurt her, he'd live just long enough to regret it. He was just about to jump down and rush to her aid, when a voice in his head stopped him.  
_"think of all the pain she's caused_ **you**._ She never came rushing to_ **your** _side to make sure_**you** _were okay. She's been living happily ever after with Raoul for the last month, probably not even giving you a second thought."_  
_"You don't know that. And she's here now,"_ his hopeful side said, arguing with the cynical side within him.  
_"Because she needs your help! You needed her_**love**. _And not only did she deny you that, she doesn't even care how you're coping. And now you want to_ **help**_her?"_  
"I have to," he ground his teeth at his own inner turmoil and quickly formulated a plan.  
Christine's eyes shot open when she thought she heard the sound of fabric swishing. Instantly, Erik was standing just before her. The moment she saw him, thunder boomed and a crack of lightening shot through the window above the door, flashing across his face for just a moment. He was looking at her darkly when he said, "What are you doing here?" It was said quietly, calmly, but with a menacing undertone that reminded Christine just how dangerous he could be…in more ways than one…  
It took Christine a moment to formulate a reply. Just his physical nearness made her throat run dry and she hadn't thought of what she was going to say, only that she needed to see him.  
_In my mind I've already imagined our bodies entwining, defenseless and silent._  
"I—I came to see you," she stammered, "I had to."  
"Why? To satisfy your curiosity, see if I had survived the fire?" he asked harshly. Then he continued, "Or maybe to see if I was completely heartbroken, and if not, to finish the job?" Erik could barely breathe. All these emotions around within him were making him sick and just the sight of her made him weak. Her normally dark shiny hair was sticking to her face and neck in sopping ringlets. And her dress, a pale peach thing, was covered in mud and clinging to every curve of her body.  
"No!" Christine exclaimed. His harsh words hurt her more than she'd expected, but she knew she deserved much worse. "No, Erik, I—"  
His eyes flashed and he clenched his jaw. "How do you know my name?" he demanded to know. For years, he'd been longing for Christine to know his real name. But he hadn't been prepared to hear her say it now, after all that happened, and that made him angry.  
They'd stepped slightly closer together as they'd talked, as if magnetically drawn to one another. But now, seeing that look in his eyes, Christine was reminded of how afraid she'd been of him the last time they'd been together. She took an unconscious backward and cried out as her ankle gave way. She started to crumple to the floor, but Erik got to her in time. He scooped her up into his arms without preamble and asked, "What happened?"  
Reflexively, Christine nuzzled her cheek against his chest. She was comforted by the strength of his arms around her and the warmth of his body near her. _What was wrong with her? What was she doing?_ She couldn't help herself. She'd never been able to resist her body's reaction to his presence—and she wasn't sure she wanted to. Suddenly, a sharp twinge from her ankle pulled her attention back. She realized Erik had asked her a question.  
"Mmm…what?"  
"I said, what happened?" Did she detect a trace of smugness in his voice? Did he realize the effect he was having on her?  
"I was visiting Meg and about to go home—"  
_Home. Home was with Raoul_ Erik felt a jab in his heart.  
"—when suddenly I had to come here. And so I started running and then it started storming and I fell and hurt my ankle."  
Erik looked around for a place to set her down, and seeing nothing but devastation from the fire, turned and started down towards his lair. Saying nothing, he carried her for what seemed to Christine to be maybe hours, or maybe seconds. Finally sat her down in front of the organ.  
"Why?" his voice shook as he looked at her, "why did you have to come here?" Misery was etched in every word he said.  
Christine's heart sank. How could she answer him when _she_ didn't even know the answer? She sighed and finally allowed herself to look deeply into his eyes, one barely visible behind his mask, the other, opened wide, vulnerable. In them, she saw a pain she couldn't even begin to understand and underneath that, something lighter glinted. Love? Hope? "I don't know," she said quietly.  
He glared her for a second, as if disappointed, then bowed his head to examine her ankle. He took off her shoe and gingerly removed the stocking that had slid down her leg somewhere along the way. Christine shivered.  
"Erik," she breathed his name, and he brought his head back up. This time, his lips were mere inches from her own. "I don't know why I came back here, I can't explain it. All of a sudden I just had to be here…with you." She looked into his eyes again, this time silently pleading with him to understand that she didn't know what she was feeling. Or if she did, she wasn't ready to admit it to herself.  
That undid him. In a split second, he closed the tiny gap between them and fused his mouth to hers. Taken by surprise, she made a small noise that turned into a moan. Before she knew what she was doing, she was kissing him back. The kiss was fervent and desperate. They were like two drowning souls who, bursting through the waves, were finally free, able to take their first deep breath. Erik felt the last vestiges of control drain out of him as Christine slipped her tongue into his mouth. He didn't care. Greedily, he fisted his hand into dark curls and angled her head back just a little to allow him to kiss her more deeply.  
A bitter thought raced through her mind: She was cheating on Raoul. But she immediately thought of Raoul making Genevieve laugh and touching her hand. The anger made the guilt burn away. Then Erik suddenly stood up, swept her back up into his arms, only to sit back down on the bench in front of the organ. He was cradling her gently in his lap, alternating between dropping soft kisses on her delicate skin and devouring her completely. Christine forgot about the guilt. When he finally left her lips to nibble his way down her throat, she was violently struck by a realization: she was in love with Erik. God help her.  
_"The bridge is crossed, so stand and watch it burn. We've passed the point of no return"_  
Could she finally be making her choice? She didn't know. The artistic, whimsical side of her wanted to jump boldly into the uncertainty of a life with Erik. But the practical, proper side of her couldn't release the death grip she mentally had on a secure life with her fiancé. But at the same time, she couldn't stop seeing Raoul sitting with Genevieve together in her mind. Even though she wasn't sure they'd done anything, she kept recalling Raoul's guilty looks and she couldn't help but burn with jealousy. She felt like she was standing on shaky ground. To one side, was a guaranteed prosperous, happy life with Raoul. On the other side was a happy life with Erik. It may not be as easy as life with Raoul, but she knew with Erik she could nurture and improve her music once again. The gap between her two choices was always increasing and she knew she had to make a final decision soon. The prospect made her feel suddenly alone. The decision was hers to make and yet it would affect the two people she loved equally as much, and for completely different reasons. Right that moment, she needed to feel human companionship. That made her cling to Erik all the more. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him with renewed fervor even as tears slid down her cheeks. Erik, concerned, pulled back to look at her.  
"Angel, what's the matter?" he asked hoarsely. He was petrified she'd realize she'd made a mistake and leave him.  
Christine just shook her head silently, saying she didn't want to talk right now, and she wasn't leaving.  
When she looked into his eyes, she could read him easily. In them she saw fear and, she couldn't deny it, lust sitting plainly on the surface. She felt an overwhelming desire to ease the former and feed the latter. Slowly, deliberately, she leaned forward and kissed him softly, all the while entranced by those blue green eyes. Gently, she caressed the normal side of his face, and Erik unconsciously leaned into her palm. With the other hand she began kneading the back of his neck. He curved up toward her fingers, aching for her touch. He moaned deeply, giving her the courage to do what needed to be done. As quickly as she could, she lifted her hand from his neck and took the mask off his face. Erik instantly stiffened, but before he could recoil, she kissed him as passionately as she possibly could. He was still going to resist, but then she was reaching up underneath his shirt, caressing his back…then her fingernails bit into his shoulders when his tongue brushed up against hers… and Erik was forced to forget about the mask. After a few moments, they pulled apart, both gasping for breath. Christine studied Erik's face hard, concentrating intensely on each feature. This made Erik extremely uncomfortable. But the serious look on her face stopped him from fidgeting.  
Christine sighed and said simply, "I love you."


	7. Confessions

Erik sat in disbelief for just a moment at her words.

_"I love you"_

She'd just told him she loves him. In all the years they'd known each other, she had never uttered those words. He was filled with elation! But almost instantly his suspicious nature took over. Surely he either heard her wrong, or she was playing some sort of cruel joke on him. His eyes narrowed as he stared intently at her face, searching for any indication of the lie. Finding nothing but innocent honesty written on her pretty features, he exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, and buried his face in her neck. He needed a moment to compose himself. He didn't even know where to begin. He'd been in love with her so long he could hardly remember a time before it. He'd forced himself to accept that she'd never return his feelings, and now all of a sudden she was! It sent his whole world reeling.  
After a moment, he cleared his throat, sat back to look at her and said, "I love you too, Christine."  
There was so much emotion embedded in those few words that they made Christine's head spin. They also reminded her of the gravity of what they'd just confessed to each other. She was engaged to Raoul, and she still had strong feelings for him. For one summer when she was younger, he had been her best friend. And since they'd been reunited, he'd been nothing but wonderful to her. He'd been her safe haven when she'd been fleeing from the man who sat before her now. She never wanted to hurt him.  
She knew that no one, except Erik, would ever understand the decision she was beginning to make. It didn't make logical sense to her, either. But sitting here, she felt she had to be with Erik. She knew everything that he was, everything that he'd done, and yet in spite of, _and_ because of that, she couldn't stay away from him. She understood Erik and knew him as well as she knew herself. She knew that at the thought of losing her, he went mad with rage and had been desperate to keep her with him. That memory made her tremble. But she also _knew_ that he loved her. And watching Raoul and Genevieve, she couldn't be sure how Raoul felt about her. Erik had this unbreakable connection to her soul that neither of them could ignore. She'd tried to in the past month. Because of Raoul, she had certainly been happy during that time, but she had always felt like this huge part of her was missing. Erik's soul was so entwined with hers that, without him near her, she didn't even feel like a whole person. Yes, she knew the horrible sins this man had committed, and yet she was addicted to him.  
But what was she going to do about Raoul? He was a good person who had taken care of her, and who had shown her love. Sitting here in Erik's lap with his arms still wrapped around her, holding her close, it was becoming more obvious to Christine that she loved Raoul, but she wasn't sure if she was _in_ love with him. When she'd left Erik a month ago, she'd convinced herself she could be in love with Raoul, and she was sure she had been at one time, but now, with the intoxicating influence of Erik surrounding her, she didn't think she'd ever be able to love anyone else and be happy.  
Erik was worried. As they sat there silently, Christine was looking over his shoulder, staring off into nothingness. Surely she was thinking about what they'd just said, and how that would affect that sniveling little boy, Raoul. Could she already see the error of her ways and be regretting her decision? Anxiously, Erik watched her face for any hint to her thoughts, but it was completely blank, expressionless. Suddenly it came alive with a look of anger and burning jealousy. What was that?   
The image of Raoul brushing his hand over the top of Genevieve's flashed through her mind. Christine ground her teeth. Here she had been suffering in silence this past month, trying to be the honorable fiancée and forget about Erik. And what had he done? He'd gone to London on a "business trip" and spent a week with an ex-fiancée he hadn't even told Christine about! And while she wasn't sure they'd rekindled anything, or done anything, those private little looks had been enough to send her over the edge.   
"Christine, what's the matter?" Erik asked her in a whisper. In his mind, their newly admitted love was already hanging by a thread. He didn't want to do anything to break that thread, not even talk above a whisper.  
His words brought her back to him. Her gaze focused back in on his face. "Nothing, I—" the weight of all the tests and trials their love would have to face weighed heavy on her small shoulders. "I need you." She started crying and buried her face into his chest.  
He was startled by her quick change in emotions, but he wrapped his arms around her, and held her close. He was holding her as a best friend would hold another. This is exactly how he'd envisioned comforting her when she'd been a child, crying her heart out to her father that first night all those years ago. Only now, there was so much layered underneath it, and his heart shattered just listening to her in pain. "Shh, baby, it's alright. I'm here for you. I'll always be here for you," he whispered gently in her ear.  
They sat there like that for a long time. He was giving her as much time as she needed to tell him what was wrong. When she finally started, she couldn't stop, and the words came out in one big burst.  
"It's just that I don't know what to do with Raoul. In the past month, he's been nothing but the sweetest, kindest person to me. But then he went off to London and spent a week with Geni," venom came into her voice, "That's his ex-fiancée that I didn't know he had, and they're just so _cute and affectionate_ towards each other when they don't think anyone's looking, and it just makes me sick! Or maybe they do know I'm watching, and they don't care—"   
Erik clenched his jaw. How dare he take Christine's love, something he'd tried so hard to attain, for granted!  
"—but maybe I deserve it. I haven't been myself lately. We've barely talked. Without you, I just walk around like a zombie, and that's not fair to him—"  
Erik smiled at her honest admission, and began to feel a little bit more confident.  
"—I probably have been a horrible person to live with. But damn him! I was trying so hard to do what was right. I'd convinced myself I could live without you, and learn to develop the same feelings for Raoul, and after just _a month_ he goes off with a beautiful woman that he almost married!"  
Erik silently thanked Raoul for his absolute stupidity.  
"So," she exhaled, the flow of tears slowing, "I just _snapped_ and had to come and see you. And I know don't deserve you. I made such a huge mistake leaving you. I'm just _so sorry_ for all the pain I've caused you!" she dissolved into tears.  
Her last words touched his heart. Even though the last month had been pure hell, it was all worth it to hear her say those words and to be holding her like this.  
He continued to whisper soothingly into her ear, "Angel, it's alright. I understand why you left me. I deserved it. I must have scared you out of your mind the last time you saw me," the very thought made his voice crack, "I just couldn't help behaving the way I did. I knew I was losing you to that fool, and I just wanted you with me so badly, I was willing to do anything I could to have you," he nuzzled her cheek lovingly, "but then I realized that for either of us to be happy, you'd have to _want_ to be with me. So I had to let you go. It was the most painful thing I've ever had to do." Both of their eyes filled with tears now, Erik lifted Christine's chin up to look into his eyes, "but we're here now."  
Christine smiled sadly at him through her tears and nodded. She hugged him so hard for a moment, her strength actually surprised him. Then she sat back, sighed, and asked, "So what are we going to do?"  
For a split second some incredibly dark thoughts entered his mind. He couldn't stop himself. The incredibly beautiful woman that he loved was sitting in his lap. Before he could get his thoughts back under control and think of a suitable reply, Christine asked him, "Why are you packing?"  
He was yanked out of his reverie, "What?"   
She nodded toward the half-filled boxes on the floor. "Why are you packing?"  
"Oh," he smiled sheepishly. "I'm moving in with Antoinette and Meg."  
"You are? Why?" then Christine remembered the Girys' vague references to "company". Now it made sense why they wouldn't tell her who it was.  
"Well, Antoinette put me up to it. But she made a good point. She reminded me that this building is about to collapse. And," he gave her a small smile, "I honestly do miss being around people. I don't _enjoy_ being alone all the time. I've just been forced to live that way because I couldn't tolerate people's cruelty—"   
Christine thought of Erik as a young boy and all the horrors he had to endure at the hands of some horrible people, even some that were supposed to love him. Her heart broke for him and she ached to hold him forever and keep the pain away. She thought of all the pain she'd caused him herself, and felt ashamed. She leaned back against him, and tucked her head into his throat.  
"But now that I have your love, I don't want to hide here in the shadows. And Antoinette had an excellent idea. She asked me to move in with her and Meg so that I could gradually get used to being around people again, while still feeling relatively comfortable."  
"Oh, Erik, that's a wonderful idea!" Christine exclaimed. She was ecstatic he'd decided to live above ground. She had been worried about him living all by himself down here.  
He had a serene smile on his face now. To hear her say his real name under these circumstances, so much better than those under which she'd said it just an hour before, made his spirit soar. "I decided to do it because of you," he said softly to himself.  
"What?"  
He looked down at her, smiled and kissed her forehead. "The thing that finally made me decide to move in with the Girys' is that, even though you're engaged to Raoul, I was hoping that it would make me seem more 'normal' to you, and maybe you'd reconsider being with me."   
His never ending hopeful nature all at once warmed and broke her heart. It didn't seem possible, but after all he'd been through, he'd somehow maintained something akin to innocence.  
What he'd said was so loving. And yet he said it so offhandedly, she could hardly think of a reply. Finally, she whispered, "Like you said, we're here now."  
How long they sat there, holding each other in silence, Christine didn't know. She had settled her head into his chest, and the rhythmic beating of his heart lulled her to sleep. She was exhausted from running to him earlier, and his embrace felt so warm and familiar…  
The next thing she knew, she woke up thinking she felt cold. No, that wasn't quite right…her foot felt cold…what the…?  
Her eyes fluttered open to find herself in Erik's bed with him hovering over her right foot holding some ice wrapped in a cloth.  
"Erik…" she said his name sleepily.   
When he looked up at her and smiled, a lock of hair fell into his eyes. Christine thought she'd never seen him look so adorable.   
"You fell asleep earlier. I tucked you into bed and started to ice your ankle. Most of the swelling's gone down. You should be good as new shortly," gently, lovingly, he caressed her foot. Even that small touch made her shiver. Deep within herself, she knew she'd never been so completely attracted to any man, not even Raoul.   
"Thank you so much," she said. Then another one of her needs was awakened. She sniffed the air appreciatively. "Mmm…what is that?" Christine realized she was famished. She hadn't eaten since early that afternoon, at the party.  
Erik smiled at her shyly. "I made us dinner. It's nothing special, just some soup. But I thought it might warm you up."  
That was the first time Christine realized she wasn't soaking wet from the storm anymore. She looked down. Erik had placed her in a warm white cotton nightgown.  
Erik looked embarrassed. "I had some things here for you…I was hoping someday you'd come back to me…" he rushed on to finish what he was saying, "And I thought it best to get you out of that dress. You started shivering and I didn't want you to get sick."  
Christine was incredibly touched that he'd taken such good care of her. Had she been with Raoul, she imagined he would've asked his chef to prepare something for her, and have some servant help her get out of her clothes.  
"Erik, thank you so much for taking care of me. I'm sorry I was so much trouble and that I wasn't able to help you!"  
Erik looked at her, surprised, "it was no trouble. I enjoy taking care of you. I love you."  
The way he said it, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, reminded Christine that he really had been there for her, taking care of her almost her whole life. "Well, thank you," she said softly, since she couldn't think of anything better to say.  
The smell from the soup continued to waft into the bedroom, and Christine's stomach growled, reminding her again that she was very hungry.  
Erik smiled. "Here, let me get you dinner."  
Before she could protest, he rested the icepack on her ankle, and left the room for a moment. When he returned, he was carrying two large steaming bowls. He handed her one, and then sat gently on the bed next to her with his.  
Christine began devouring her soup right away. "Mmm. This is delicious!"  
Erik smiled, delighted that she liked it.  
They sat in silence for a couple of moments. Then, Christine was struck by how late it felt. "What time is it?" she asked.  
Erik looked at the small antique clock on his side of the bed. "It's midnight."  
Even though she'd thought it had been late, she'd had no idea it would be that late. "Raoul must be worried sick. How am I going to explain this to him?"  
_As well he should be,_ Erik thought to himself and smiled arrogantly. Instead, he said, "Well, you were visiting Meg this afternoon right? Just tell him you spent the night with her."  
_Spending the night…_

Yes, she supposed she would be spending the night with Erik. That thought lent itself to all sorts of other ones that she didn't dare dwell on. To distract herself, she looked out the door toward his organ. She was craving to hear him play for her.  
"Have you written anything new?" she asked, nodding toward the organ.  
"No," he replied sadly. "I haven't written anything since…Don Juan," his voice cracked. Not wanting to think about that painful night, he pushed on, "I haven't been able to write or play anything since I lost you."

_You alone can make my song take flight,  
Help me make the music of the night..._

The lyric resurfaced simultaneously from both their memories. For a second, they both allowed themselves to think of that fateful night.  
"Play for me now. Please," Christine asked him.  
"But your ankle—" he started.  
"Please."  
So he got up, swept her up into his arms, and carried her over to the organ. He sat her down on the stool before it, then sat down next to her.  
Lately, when he'd been trying to play or write something, it had felt almost foreign to him. With his inspiration by his side, however, it began to feel comfortable and familiar. This…this was how it was supposed to be. This was what he'd envisioned whenever he'd composed.  
Smiling, he lovingly caressed the keys for a moment before poising his fingers over them. "What would you like me to play for you, my love?"   
"Anything you want."  
He thought for just a moment, then he had it. He began playing, and just within just the first few notes, they were both filled with an indescribable euphoria. Christine immediately realized he wanted to hear her sing. She hadn't been prepared for that. But nevertheless, she knew that the teacher in him would demand that his pupil sing. And so, she began.

_Think of me  
Think of me fondly when we've said goodbye  
Remember me once in a while, please promise me you'll try_

When you find that once again you long to take your heart back and be free  
If you ever find a moment spare a thought for me.  
We never said our love was evergreen  
Or as unchanging as the sea.  
But if you can still remember  
Stop and think of me.  
Think of all the things we've shared and seen,  
Don't think about the way things might have been.  
Think of me,  
Think of me waking, silent and resigned.  
Imagine me  
Trying too hard to put you from my mind.   
Recall those days, look back on all those times,  
Think of the things we'll never do.  
There will never be a day when I won't think of you!  
Flowers fade, The fruits of summer fade,  
They have their seasons so do we.  
But please promise me that sometimes   
You will think...  
Of me!  
She had started off rather weakly, but by the end, had been able to finish fairly well. But she was embarrassed. She hadn't practiced in the last month, hadn't been able to without Erik.  
"You have not been practicing," Erik stated plainly.  
Christine winced. She was half expecting him to yell at her, lecture her.  
Instead, he just said gently, "sing it again."  
He began playing, she sang, and he would offer gentle corrections, which, when applied, improved her voice significantly. Just like they had been doing since what seemed like the beginning of time.  
Time flew past quickly as they seemed to fall in love with music, and each other, all over again.  
Finally, a couple of hours later, an exhausted Erik carried an exhausted Christine to bed. As he turned to go, she tugged on his sleeve. "Stay with me," she whispered sleepily.  
Just those three words alone were enough to seduce him, but he could see that wasn't what she meant. Uncertainly, he crawled into bed next to her. She raised his arm and snuggled her body as close to his as possible. That night, he fell asleep with love, and her hair's perfume drifting tantalizingly through his subconscious.


End file.
